Disenchanted
by HadenXCharm
Summary: The sword had held an evil spell for centuries, only able to be wielded by the strongest men. However, it corrupted the minds of those unfit to claim its power, and when the unworthy owner refused to relinquish it, he and the blade were cursed by a wrathful witch. He would sleep until someone who could tame his heart came along. It had been five hundred years since that day.
1. Chapter 1

_The sword had held an evil spell for centuries, only able to be wielded by the strongest and most worthy of men. The problem was that it corrupted the minds of those unfit to claim its power, and when the owner refused to relinquish it, engaging in mindless slaughter, the blade and its master were cursed by a wrathful witch. He would be placed in everlasting slumber until someone who could tame his heart came along, someone who could awaken him and convince him to either wield the sword rightfully or abandon it. Until then, he would remain asleep._

 _It had been five hundred years since that day, and the ownerless sword had claimed many more victims, its curse spreading through the ground like poison and drawing arrogant power-hungry hearts to it. All perished. Even the sight of the blade, its very_ _presence_ _could have an effect on anyone susceptible to its lust for violence. The blade preyed upon weakness and howled for its sleeping wielder. Those who searched for the sword were doomed the moment they saw it. Even those who hadn't even laid eyes on it, who had never been burdened with the image of the sword and its terrible secret, they too still felt an incredible need bubbling within them like lava._

 _Having set foot on the cursed ground a hundred years prior, the sole survivor of a band of rogues who had been dead set on claiming the sword undergoes a terrifying transformation and is left to roam the countryside for decades, spreading fire in his wake. If only he could take that sword's secret to the grave, but alas, he hadn't aged a day in a hundred years._

* * *

The patron legend of their valley had long since been Yumichika's favorite, probably ever since the first time he'd heard it. The idea of a cursed sword longing for its slumbering master was quite romantic, waiting for him for hundreds of years and spreading an evil mire throughout their land when it was denied. He'd made his mother tell it over and over again until he could correct her if she got a single word wrong. He'd even taken to telling it to the kids who hung around his shack once in a while, but that didn't mean he didn't think it was a pile of shit.

The legend was just that, a legend, and Yumichika's lip curled slightly as he heard a crappy rendition of the tale from a nearby street-vendor who was trying to lure children and their money in to buy apples. What an ugly voice, and he was getting a ton of things wrong, embellishing on purpose. Oh, it irked Yumichika, but he couldn't help but stick around to hear just how badly he messed up the tale so he could shake his head and glare in disapproval. He grit his teeth in ire, but stopped begrudgingly to listen, hanging back behind the grubby kids and staring skeptically at the storyteller, _daring_ him to make eye contact.

Telling the story rather like beauty and the beast, the vendor explained that the sword's master had been the strongest and therefore the most worthy man in all the land, which made him the only one who'd been able to wield the sword, the sword that was imbued with a dark terrible magic that gave its owner absolute power. Most men who would be considered worthy by it were pure of heart, incorruptible, but this one was different; his sheer strength and skill alone had allowed him take up the sword as his own, and the dark magic had twisted his heart.

Yumichika sneered. _No_ one was worthy but that warrior. That was the whole point of the sword spreading its rage across the mountain. It wasn't a matter of those who tried to take it being pure of heart or not. The sword wanted its old master back, not a new one. That warrior just had to come back and prove he was worthy again, and all would be over. Besides, that idiot _wouldn't_ be worthy anymore, not now that a witch had deemed that he was so violent and out of control that he needed to be put to sleep for the rest of his life until somebody in the far future came along to help.

Not that any of it was real. _Especially_ not when this guy was telling the story so unbelievably wrong. It made Yumichika feel like gagging. Way to take a great tale and completely ruin it. He should just walk off right now! Oh, but not yet…

The part where 'Beauty' came in was what Yumichika was waiting for.

"The wielder was a reckless violent person, and when he finally found the most powerful weapon in all the land, he used it for heinous selfish purposes. He cared not for the responsibility that ultimate power provided, and chose instead to duel constantly, seeking opponents and increasing the sword's bloodlust with each one he cut down. He used it for _evil._ "

"Ahhhhn!" a child chirped.

"Woah!"

Yumichika snorted. Just because the man hadn't used the sword to protect the meek like he'd been meant to didn't mean that he'd been _evil._ Yumichika imagined that others who had challenged him had probably been pillagers and other types who would use _their_ swords for wrongdoing. He'd always imagined the sword-wielder as a sort of chaotic neutral, but never a villain. He was seen as a hero to a lot of people, although he had no idea why, if they believed in the mountain being cursed because of him.

"One day," the vendor said in a hushed voice that caused the children to huddle even closer, "he crossed a sorceress, who put a curse on him and his weapon-"

A _double-_ curse, oi vey. Yumichika scoffed and walked away, not bothering to wait for the spell-breaker to come in to the tale. He knew the story well enough. At least the storyteller had known that the witch had just added another curse instead of being the original castor. The sword had a long history of violence, being passed by its master being defeated by someone more worthy; it was a true _bloodline._

Yes, the foolish wielder had done something nondescript to royally piss off a famously beautiful sorceress, and had ended up placed in an eternal sleep. That _something_ that the man had done was something to make her believe that he wasn't worthy of the sword until he changed his ways. Moreover, she believed he _couldn't_ change his ways without help, and put him out until someone was born with a certain something that could persuade him to go soft and forsake his weapon. Not very likely. Anyway, the whole thing was supposed to have happened half a millennium ago.

What rot. To think that a man had been sleeping for five hundred years somewhere up on that mountain with that cursed sword, it made Yumichika want to laugh. What a pile of garbage, but certainly an inventive tale. He thought it was good for kids to hear the correct version. A fairytale without a resolution or a happy ending, a hero with a mean streak, a weapon that could teach them that ultimate power didn't always make you a good guy. It was closer to real life than white knights and golden princesses. Better than 'Jack and the Beanstalk', at least.

The part that Yumichika had always liked was the talk of spell-breaking and of the enchantment itself. The townspeople had long since stopped trying to forge the mountain, and were even beginning to avoid the woods. No one went out there, not even foolish kids wanting to prove they were tough. The legend decreed that an ancient dragon guarded the sword now, like the golden apples supposedly guarded by Ladon.

The town had been absolutely _crazy_ over that part of the story lately, because in the last century, this 'dragon' seemed to have popped up in real life. Yumichika had seen the scorched tree trunks and the burnt crops himself. Someone had gone up the mountain and provoked the beast, probably, whatever it was, not that it existed. Something had definitely happened though, because that amount of fire power doesn't just come from _nowhere_. He had no desire to know himself, just taking precautions to keep Rangiku and himself safe if it were some kind of gang violence. He'd been sleeping with a hammer under his pillow, but for what?

Yumichika didn't like to fight anymore. He'd been discharged from the knight academy a month after joining and had buried his sword in the woods near his mother's grave. He wondered if she would have been ashamed.

He'd heard some hysterical girls earlier that day saying that they'd _seen_ the beast and that it had snapped at them, but he figured that they had seen something else and had been so frightened that they didn't know what they were saying anymore. He probably would've done the same if he'd been scared that badly. Everyone's collective suspicion and paranoia was just starting to get to people and make them crack, that was all. It didn't mean anything was really going on, but there _would_ be if everyone just went nuts. Probably a full moon approaching.

The town was rallying, talking about an attack and harassing a local boy with some sort of ghost-seeing eyes, but Yumichika chose to stay out of it. The last time something like this had happened, with the town nearly being burnt down, a lot of people had died. It had been before he'd been born, but he saw how new all the houses were compared to the church. There had been a massive attack of arson, or maybe from the dragon-thing. Yumichika didn't really believe it was an actual dragon. It was probably just some youths having 'fun' by destroying others' property. This is what the community got for sparing the rod.

' _Nasty mean little children,'_ he thought, snarling bitterly, storming through the drafty wooden door to the little shanty he and Rangiku lived in together. Immediately, the smell smacked him in the face, but he said nothing, seeing Rangiku darning a sock, sitting on her bed. There was a red puddle in the dust, and Yumichika tried not to look, knowing that it was her monthly cycle once again. He didn't know how these girls put up with it, _every month_ , not to mention supposedly going 'loony' with the moon.

Not that he'd ever seen a woman actually go loony, but it was what everyone seemed to talk about nonstop whenever a woman cried or so much as got frustrated. He didn't know, he'd just grown up with girls when he was young and realized that little boys and little girls weren't so different, and weren't any more different when they grew up. When Rangiku was upset, it was for a legitimate reason, and Yumichika always addressed that.

Still, god, the smell was overpowering. When it was faint and old, it was almost a comfort, because it was sort of a 'home' thing that he always came back to, but fresh like this, it was too much!

He was used to it by now, of course. The women around here just let it run down their legs and stain their clothes, because they'd all be dirt poor if they wasted cloth or water constantly cleaning off, and Yumichika understood that. He tried to ignore it whenever he saw it, making sure he never walked around barefoot.

It really got to him when he'd see really young girls holding their stomachs and sitting at the foot of trees on the side of the road. It made him suspect that this happened to them because a man had touched them for the first time. If he asked, they'd say they were okay, but they couldn't be more than twelve. They didn't even have _breasts_ yet, it was crazy! Sometimes Yumichika couldn't stop thinking about it. Why would a child have to go through that? Was it because a man had hurt them? Some of them were so innocent-looking that he thought that couldn't _possibly_ be, but he still wondered and tried not to get to close to young girls, because he was older now and just wanted to make sure.

Rangiku professed that it hurt, but was bearable, and Yumichika felt that they took it well considering that something had been cut and was bleeding up there. At least, that's what he suspected. How else would they bleed? It was no wonder everyone thought it was some kind of wide-spread disease.

Either way, Yumichika decided to get some sage to try to mask the smell. Besides, sometimes Rangiku got cranky when she was like this, and he didn't wish to have an argument just now. "I'll be back later," he said, needing to go get some firewood too. All of their wood had been burnt to a crisp by the arsonist, along with half their corn-field. Oh, if he saw who had done it, if they tried to pull this crap again, he would bash their head in. Because of them, he and Rangiku were probably going to starve this winter if they didn't resort to begging, _again._

This was no way to live, now was it. Yumichika sighed when Rangiku gave him a parting wave.

Their little shack was on the outskirts of the town with the rest of the poor, of which there were many. Everything man-made out here was grey, dark brown, and so bland, so humble compared to the gorgeous green grass of springtime and the lovely trees. Oh, he loved spring. It had just begun to settle into the warm season, the trees on the tail end of blossoming, and everything was so fragrant.

The breeze felt nice, calling Yumichika up the unscathed hill and into the forest. He had a favorite spot to chop wood. He already had downed a few trees up there and just needed to yank his ax out of the chopping block and go de-limb the large oak. Maybe he could ask Shuuhei to lend his two-man crosscut saw and help him with the trunk later. He probably wouldn't agree. That man had been acting strange ever since he'd beaten him at cards. It wasn't as if he'd _cheated,_ or anything. Yumichika smirked, holding a hand up to his eyes to scan the sparse stretch of trees for where he'd gone earlier in the week to cut logs.

He didn't want to freeze this winter, which was ironic, considering that they'd be going cold because of all the _fires_ going on, wasting their wood. Winter was a long ways away, but it would still be a stupid way to die.

Wandering over a few hills, stomping through dead leaves and back out into some clearings where the grass wasn't choked out by tree-trunks, Yumichika saw his ax in the distance, sticking out of a rotting stump. He thought back to that cursed blade, wondering if he would be worthy of it. That'd be a way to get some respect around here. He bet that if he'd had that thing when he'd been in the academy, those men never would've said those things.

Yumichika sighed, pulling his ax out of the dead wood and stalked away. Rangiku wouldn't mind if he took a while. She didn't mind much of anything since that skinny guy had left.

He wondered where that legend had come from in the first place. Maybe it had been built on truth. He believed that the sword had existed once, long ago, but by now it was probably buried in the foundation of a castle, in a cave, maybe covered by boulders in a mountain rock-slide. It could be at the bottom of the ocean. Either way, the owner was long dead, his bones having eroded to dust ages before Yumichika had ever taken his first breath. Yumichika didn't believe in eternal sleep, and if he did, he didn't believe in youth holding out during an eternal sleep. The warrior was dead, _long_ dead, and the sword with him. The rest was just being rehashed by everyone's imagination.

What a fantastic story it was, though.

Coming to the top of the hill, Yumichika squinted into the sun, putting a hand up to shield his eyes as he tried to get a view of the mountain. Even if the curse was a bunch of superstition now, Yumichika couldn't deny that strange things happened up there, and no stranger would it be if he got closer to get a better look. No one would know.

They said that the ground surrounding the mountain wasn't safe anymore, that the curse was spreading and killing the plants, that bands of men who had gone to search for the sword hundreds of years ago had all come to untimely ends, mutating into horrible creatures of shadow and ash.

Yumichika kicked his leather boots off, holding them above his head as he forded a small stream, shaking his wet legs off as he made it to the other side. He just wanted a good look at the mountainside. It was so hard to see through the thick forest from nearer to the town, that and the clouds that were usually strategically covering it.

If the dragon was real, or whatever the beast was, it was probably just hungry by now. If it were true that all the plants and animals near the mountain had died, of course it would have to come down sometimes. At least no one here had ever been _eaten_. Yumichika shuddered, imagining a wicked dragon swooping down with its leathery wings and picking up a full-grown sheep with its claws like an owl effortlessly captures a mouse.

Maybe the curse of the sword had driven the poor creature mad and it was tired of waiting for opponents to challenge its guardianship. No one had tried to find the weapon in years as far as he knew. Yumichika knew that people believed it existed; maybe none of them were fool enough to risk becoming cursed themselves. He himself didn't think stepping a foot on hallowed ground such as that would be wise, curse or not.

But that didn't mean he couldn't get a little closer, now did it?

Having been walking for almost fifteen minutes now, Yumichika crawled over a gorge on a log bridge, worming through the dirty roots and onto solid ground again. He'd always suspected that the crumbling remains of a castle resided on the mountain's far side, but he pinned that down to his wild imagination as a young boy.

The surroundings were changing. There were more hills and exposed rock, and the trees had to twist to adapt to the steep surfaces, which were severe and sudden.

What had always intrigued Yumichika the most about the story was the man. Not the sword or its power, but the man who had wielded it. He must've been a fearsome one to have been so strong that he'd been able to even _lift_ the handle of a sword such as that. Yumichika had such admiration for that alone, but what disdained him was that the man had allowed the power to corrupt his mind, that with all his strength, he hadn't been able to resist its call to violence. The violence wasn't the problem, actually. It was that with all his determination, he hadn't the willpower to keep in control of his own mind, and had become violent _because_ of it.

Then again, he assumed a man who had purposefully sought out a sword like that had been violent from the very beginning.

Still, it made Yumichika wonder... What had the guy been like before all of that had happened? Maybe... maybe he'd even had dimples when he'd smiled.

"AH!" Yumichika shouted, heart pounding as the rocks beneath him gave way and sent him skidding down a cliffside. Luckily, able to keep his balance, he let his hands drag behind him and slow his fall as he and the sliding stones and gravel plummeted towards a cave entrance, half-filling it when they finally came to a stop. Letting out a slow breath and pulling himself to his feet, he stumbled out of the pile of rubble, coughing in the cloud of dust.

As the sun moved out from behind the clouds, he saw something glinting from behind the rock pile, inside the cave. Not eager to go inside, he climbed to the top of the rock bits to have a look, seeing that there was… there was _light_ in the distance in there. It was a _tunnel._

Cautiously entering, Yumichika swore to go back if he came to even _one_ fork in the road. He was claustrophobic and refused to get lost in here.

He wondered what had happened to the sword wielder. Yumichika knew it was most likely that he'd been defeated by another challenger and that he was lying dead beneath five layers of sediment, but he always came back to the fact that the story _said_ that he'd been placed in an eternal sleep. At least that explained his absence and abrupt disappearance.

Until someone came along that could look upon his beastly face and love him, he would forever sleep. Yumichika could think of three princess stories that went along those lines already... He'd sleep forever until someone who could tame his heart came along and found a way to wake him.

The man must've been too stubborn to change his ways, and the witch who'd supposedly cursed him must've known that, relying on someone else in the far future to come and fix him for the good of the world, rather than destroying the sword herself. It was a weapon of incredible power… It just had to be in the right hands.

Yumichika came out of the dark, hearing an intense quiet spread around him as he swept aside some long hanging grass and entered into a sunny clearing, surrounded by sheer rock faces on all sides. Moss grew thick along the walls, and flowers were everywhere, along with a gigantic hanging tree that was shading some cracked stone steps. Yumichika hadn't known trees could become so big. It probably looked like it was growing on top of this hill, but it was just that colossal that it could pass for such and still originate down here.

Yumichika approached, almost afraid to disturb the surely sacred ground, seeing moths flurry away from him with every careful step through the moss. It was so beautiful here… He felt like taking a nap in the sun.

He thought he heard a soft snore, but it turned out to be his own labored breathing. His heart was still slowing from that rockslide.

As he approached the vine-riddled stone steps, he moved around the massive trunk of the tree to find someone sleeping on a flat bed of rock, almost like a coffin. There was no glass covering to shield a nubile maiden in her slumber, but there lay a lean man in a short-tunic, hands folded over his stomach, ropy scarred legs stretched out unnaturally straight.

With one look at his face, Yumichika's heart stopped.

Something in the back of his mind whispered, ' _It's_ _him_ ,' and it was all Yumichika could do to keep from screaming and falling on his ass. After taking a few moments to adjust to what he was seeing, he realized that no one could sleep in that position. It was too perfect, like someone had lain him there and adjusted him so he was laying exactly straight. No one lay down to rest like that on their own. Was he okay? Was he breathing?

Heart jolting, Yumichika leaned forward in alarm, hovering over the man from a few different angles, trying to gauge whether he was just a traveler who had decided to take a rest here. Maybe he really was alert and just had his eyes closed, because he didn't seem to be sleeping at all; actually, he'd seem nearly _dead_ were it not for the color in his cheeks and the gentle motion of his stomach with each breath.

Even laying like a corpse at a wake, he looked… he looked to be at absolute peace, and it awed Yumichika for quite some time.

"Hello," Yumichika whispered, hoping for a reaction, but there was no flinch, no hitch in his breathing, not even a batting of an eyelash. Yumichika held his breath tightly and stuck out a hand, touching the man's bare leg, prodding him gently a few times, then more roughly. He received no response whatsoever.

" _Hey!"_ he shouted, surprising himself with the volume and the silence that followed, but still, nothing happened. Yumichika sat there for probably a full three minutes, heart pounding in his ears as he stared at the sleeping body.

This had to be him, didn't it. Who else could it be? Yumichika had never thought that the story was _real._ Besides, if it was, he'd expected the man to have been put to sleep on top of the cursed mountain somewhere, not in a hidden glen in the woods! If the story had been wrong, did this mean that Yumichika was on enchanted ground right now? If the warrior had turned out to be real, would it be a stretch to say that the curse was too? What would happen to him?

Yumichika held his breath, leaping onto a stone, not daring to touch the mossy ground once more as he stared silently at the sleeping man, who was absolutely motionless, breathing pattern never changing. No one slept like that. It was unnatural. This man had the face of someone who would snore and drool and spread out like a starfish, yet here he was with his hands neatly folded and his legs straight like a corpse in a coffin.

It had to be a spell.

Yumichika believed in spells, and although he'd never seen a real one, he thought that he'd know well enough to be able to confirm that this was a work of magic. Okay, it was settled. He'd found the man of legend, his idol, a man who hadn't moved an inch in five hundred years. Immediately, questions began tearing at him. How could it be that a leaf had never fallen on his face, that dust had never settled? That the clearing hadn't become absolutely overgrown? That insects hadn't eaten away his clothes? This whole place must be caught in an eternal standstill.

Yumichika's breath left him in awe as he stared around, and it left the question, if this was the legendary sword-wielder, where was the sword now? Suddenly, it clicked. The man had been cursed to _sleep_ forever, but the sword had been what had caused the dark magic to spread throughout the mountain. It must still be there on the peak somewhere, awaiting its master's return. That would give this warrior a little time to think things over before immediately taking up his weapon again.

Yumichika wondered if he'd laid here undisturbed for the entirety of five hundred years. Had others come to try? Was this the 'sword-in-the-stone' type deal? Had others come here and struggled to wake him up, only to fail and leave, not telling anyone else because they couldn't bear the thought of another trying and succeeding in their stead? It excited him to think that he might just be the first to find him.

Yumichika swallowed. He couldn't just _not_ try, could he? But did he have what it took? How to wake him though, how to wake him? Yumichika couldn't remember.

It had been something like, that person with the spirit that could tame the fire within the sword-wielder would be able to wake him and keep him from going back to his old ways, but that must mean that Yumichika had already failed. He didn't have what it took, which would be why the man hadn't awoken the moment he'd called him. If he were the one, he should just automatically _know_ what to do. No, it wasn't him that was meant to wake him.

Oh, what a face, though. Yumichika found himself magnetized, feet sinking back into the ground as he drew himself over onto a stone step, knees resting a couple feet lower than the platform on which the sleeping man rested, putting him only a short distance away. He looked down, enamored by the sleeping swordsman's face.

His brow was uncreased, though his face was one that Yumichika was sure would be constantly drawn in a severe expression in waking life, which was why the vulnerable countenance was so captivating. He felt honored to see such a visage of utter peace. Yumichika felt called to sit here for ages and memorize those features. His eyebrows were thin and dark, the muscle beneath them incredibly chiseled, as if he spent a lot of time frowning. His lips were chapped, but not scaly, nearly the same color as his skin, maybe a light pink mixed in there somewhere. Those closed eyes were slanted sharply, with dark short lashes, red markings spread at the corners. He had no hair on his head, but not from age. No, he didn't look like he'd been a day past twenty eight in five hundred years.

Tearing his eyes away from that face for a few moments, they came to rest upon the swordsman's broad callused hands, tossed somewhat carelessly over his stomach, one on top of the other, low down enough that they weren't disturbed by the motions of his breath. His legs were lean and the muscles were defined, pale taught areas spread all over where scars had yet to heal. He was barefoot, and his clothes consisted of a very-short simple robe with sleeves, tied in the front with a dark grey belt with a notch for a missing sword.

It would be so easy, so easy to strangle him and end it all, to put an end to the magic sword's howling and violent grief. The dragon would leave, all of it might fade, the curse might settle down, and Yumichika would have been a part of his favorite story. He could be the conclusion, the happy bittersweet end that the legend needed.

But, oh, what a face. He'd never seen a face like this, that one should look upon it… until the end of time.

Yumichika felt as though he were in love. No, he didn't want to kill; he wanted to _care._ He had to wake this man, to save him from the horrible mess he'd got himself into. He could save him, he could change him, _he_ could be the one to tame his wild beastly heart, if only he knew how to wake him up.

He tried to remember if the legend had mentioned a name. _'Edorad'_ came to mind, but that had been one of the sword's previous owners, who'd come upon an untimely death when he'd dueled the current wielder, i.e., this sleeping guy. Yumichika wondered just how crazed the sword had made him. If he were to wake him, would the man lash out? Would he try to kill him? Or would he be grateful?

Yumichika desperately wished that he knew the words to speak to break the spell, but he didn't know what to do, what to say. He timidly held out a hand and placed it atop the knuckles of the swordsman's hands, rubbing slightly with his thumb.

What a lovely face, so soft and relaxed, but still so fierce and powerful. Yumichika couldn't stand it. He'd tried to deny it for this long, but he knew one other method that may wake him. Besides calling him by name, having the power to tame his heart, and being able to defeat him in battle himself, Yumichika kept being haunted persistently by that little voice in his head.

' _True love's kiss.'_

He shook his head violently, cheeks turning pink as he looked away, unable to gaze at the sleeping man's face while thinking such thoughts. This is what had gotten him thrown out of the academy: rumors of his dispositions towards men. He'd had to defend his own honor and had gutted a young man from nose to groin for daring to jeer at him and spread word of his 'filthy affliction' around. Knowing that he could be thrown out as a pariah, maybe even stoned to death, Yumichika had kept his feelings to himself, but that didn't change what he knew deep in his heart.

He'd never even had one kiss with a man, because he'd never found anyone like him before. He still hadn't, but if this guy was sleeping, then… No one would know. It wasn't like it would wake him up. Yumichika had already been proven unworthy.

Still, the idea of it… True love's kiss, what a nice idea. It was cliché, it was everywhere in all kinds of stories, but Yumichika had never seen one. However, true _love_ wasn't uncommon out here. It wasn't beyond the scope of normality for two young people to fall in love at first sight and marry within a few days; surprisingly enough, the pairs never seemed to tire of each other or have problems, almost like the true love was real. Yumichika had thought it foolish, and he didn't know if it was genuine, but oh, did it seem wonderful.

All he had to do… yes… it would be simple. Just one time, one little peck. Yumichika leaned down, holding his breath. The idea of it was intoxicating, causing the overwhelming loneliness of the entirety of his twenties to well up within him. True love forever with no effort. It was amazingly easy. He just had to feel true love for this sleeping man, and that would make it a true love kiss - all would be well. In a perfect world, the spell would break, he'd keep his new paramour away from the cursed sword, and they'd be happy, happily ever after.

That was the contract of true love, right? Happiness and forever… Oh, it sounded so ridiculous. He didn't know what he was thinking, but the temptation was too strong. Just once…

Looking around with guilt as if someone would catch him, Yumichika brushed his hand lightly over the cheek of the sleeping man, halting a few inches before their lips could meet.

' _Still_ _warm…'_

There had been other criteria for breaking the spell, he was sure of it. It wasn't true love's kiss that was the cure, and he knew that true love didn't really exist, but the temptation was too powerful to resist. Even if only to have a regular kiss, Yumichika wanted this… Oh, he did.

Finally, Yumichika leaned down and let their lips touch, kissing him softly, eyes slipping shut as everything faded away, even the silence. A soft breath escaped him; even without any response at all, it felt nice, so nice to do this. He wondered what it was like, being loved like a true love… He wanted to have that someday, if it was possible.

Absolute nothingness enfolded him, and he didn't know how long he stayed there like that, the sleeping swordsman's hands clasped in his, their lips gently pressed together. All he knew was that when he moved back an inch in disappointment at the lack of reaction, he nearly fell back on his ass in shock when he saw that the man's eyes had snapped open.

* * *

"It happened again!"

"We'll all starve!"

"No one's safe until the beast is driven out!"

"What am I, the resident shaman? Get back!" Ichigo shouted, fending off an overzealous neighbor with a forearm. "I don't know when everyone decided that I was some sort of official exorcist! This is ridiculous!"

He was sick of all this wizard talk. Ichigo knew that in places like that, magic folk were either burnt at the stake or relentlessly bothered for favors, but he didn't fit into either of those situations because he wasn't _magic._ He had grudgingly conceded that somewhere somehow magic _might_ exist, that mysterious creatures _could_ be real, but until the cold hard proof was in front of his face with no speculative evidence, he said that the whole lot of it was hokum. Especially that dumbass tale told endlessly about their mountain. It was nothing but a rock mound going through a drought. These people were too superstitious. He bet they saw a monster a day.

Okay, he admitted that the burnt crops that kept persisting and the town being torched a century ago had to have _something_ to it, but he thought it was just some kids horsing off. All the witch burnings that had ever went on were just the result of people panicking and getting carried away, not because there was legitimate proof of witchery being afoot. Besides, so what if it was? What had a witch ever done to harm anyone? Overall, Ichigo was ticked off at this new development.

It was bullshit. He wasn't going out there! They couldn't make him! What could _he_ do, anyway? He was a man already in his age and should have been married by now, but he still thought of himself as young, and had a responsibility to his family. He wasn't going to go off traipsing around looking for something that probably didn't even exist just to give these people some peace of mind. He might be grown, but he was a young guy still, and he didn't have time for this shit. It was probably some cult vendetta, and Ichigo had no desire to get involved. If he caught this loser lurking around his house and setting fire to shit, _then_ he'd meddle and probably crack their skull with his boot, but until that day, he was staying out of it. Let that jerk have their fun.

And if the possibility were there that it _was_ a chimaera, a dragon, or a fire spirit, what would Ichigo do about that? It wasn't as if he'd been blessed by the church or lived a particularly pious life. He wasn't the strongest or smartest of men, and he didn't have some sort of 'talisman' that could 'ward off' 'evil'. He was a young guy! Too young to die! He wasn't going to be their sacrifice! Guh, the whole thing was stupid.

"You see spirits! You said so yourself." That made Ichigo quiet down, because it was true. He didn't like to talk about it, not because he was afraid of the town burning him at the stake, but because it sounded ridiculous even to him. Who would believe that, anyway? He could see ghosts? Yeah, right. It was different than that.

Sometimes when others were having trouble sleeping, or had evil on the brain, he could just _tell._ He'd see some sort of shroud or red mist following them around. Sometimes he'd catch shades or shadowy figures wandering around in the night, but that didn't mean he knew anything about banishing them or even what they _were._

"I don't see what that has to do with it," Ichigo replied flatly, glaring back into their faces challengingly. Chad lingered off to the side, having paused at his anvil in response to the commotion. Ichigo tossed his gloves off and wiped soot off his cheek.

"Ichigo, don't you believe something's out there?" Keigo called, scratching at his thick hair as he leaned against his rake. Ichigo grumbled. That guy should be too exhausted from farming to have any time to speculate over this.

"I've seen the burnt crops, okay? _Someone_ did it, because that surely wasn't lightning. But does that mean it's a… a, a… What in the hells do you people think it is, anyway?"

"The sword-guardian," Uryu said sharply, drawing Ichigo's attention. They leveled each other with a cold stare, acknowledging each other as rivals. Orihime shifted lightly where she was holding her buckets and fidgeting with her ragged dress. Ichigo growled. He didn't want all of this upsetting her. That girl was very susceptible to superstition, because she was so trusting in what people told her.

"Oh yeah? So, what? It's a ghost, then?"

"A _dragon_ , you fool. What else breathes fire?" Uryu snapped in Ichigo's face. Ichigo had to wonder how he was such a good marksman when he was nearly blind, but he couldn't deny the man's skills. "I say we storm the mountain and kill it, but the-"

"Yeah, yeah, the curse, okay, sure," Ichigo said, rolling his eyes. "But what do you all want _me_ to do about it?"

"You may be able to communicate with whatever _it_ may be. If you can see spirits, maybe you have magical blood, which gives you a better shot. Not to mention that you'd certainly be able to go nearer the mountain, considering that you don't _believe_ in curses," Uryu begrudgingly admitted, "They… well, _we_ seem to think you have the best chance."

"Kurosaki-kun, couldn't you try? How will we sleep at night?" Orihime said timidly and Ichigo winced, not looking towards her as he gave a belabored sigh, not liking being put on the spot like that. Her scared voice always put a serious chink in his resistance, and right now was no different. If only to make her feel safe, maybe he could consider it… Still, he thought the whole thing was ridiculous, and he wanted her to understand that. If he gave in and went, it just might convince her that there really was something out there.

"It's only a matter of time before someone gets hurt, Ichigo," Chad mentioned, and Ichigo took those words to heart, looking at his feet and leaning on the wooden fence, running a dirty hand through his hair, contemplating it. If Chad had actually spoken up, it was a valid point.

"It could be one of your sisters," Keigo mentioned with an expression of woe, and that was just _it_ for Ichigo. The thought of one of them, defenseless, running and crying in fear just tore his heart apart.

"Fine! I'll see what I can do."

"It must be killed if any of us are to be safe," Uryu pressed.

Ichigo ran a hand through his hair in aggravation, shouting in his face, getting heated, " _Fine_ , if it'll get you all off my back, I'll go kill it! We'll be safe! I swear to all of you on my eternal soul! Now _get!_ All of you! _"_ he shouted, glaring out at them. "I'll go now, since you're all such dull cowards that you must come to _me_ for help. Who will my family stay with when I depart? Who will take care of them with me gone? Do you think I have unlimited time on my hands?"

They had the decency to look embarrassed.

"I'll do it, but let you all hear that I'm not some local-sorceror who does favors for anywho just because of a few beggars. This be the last time that any of you will disturb me, asking me to banish the demon in your children. Just beat it out of them yourselves, and leave me be! I have a dragon to slay!"

"Oh thank you, Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime said cheerily, giving a short bow a few times until he shooed the milkmaid away. Yes, he'd go and see what all the fuss was about, although he still didn't see what a young man such as he could do. He'd never been through proper sword-training and hadn't entered the knight's order, so that he could stay and help his family feed themselves. Maybe they thought he had some secret way of warding off spirits, or had the skills to reason with a _dragon._

Although he scoffed at the idea of such tales being true, he'd heard plenty of yarns in his youth, and dragons were his favorite subject of all times. That being said, he knew he had no chance against the cleverness of a dragon. He wasn't good with riddles and the like.

He supposed that meant that he had to go investigate in the mire over the hill. Don't get him wrong, he was pissed too. He was _livid_ that the crops he and his sisters had broke their backs working on had been wasted so easily. Ichigo wanted someone to blame. He wanted to bring back the creature's head in a bag. That's what _they_ wanted anyway. They wanted him to kill it and bring back proof.

Chad sharpened up a thin blade for him and clapped him on the shoulder with his rough blacksmith's hand. Ichigo nodded his thanks, feeling that Chad was telling him silently that this was a good thing he was doing for the wellbeing of everyone. Ichigo waved to him as he departed, kissing his sister's cheeks one by one, pecking Orihime on the cheek as well in farewell.

As the town disappeared behind him, it began to set in just what he'd vowed to do. He would return with the dragon lying dead in the woods somewhere, setting the valley free, or his soul would be eternally damned. He would've sworn on his Mother's grave, but he wasn't about to do that. Swearing on his own soul hurt a little less, since he wasn't exactly sure if he believed in souls. He'd sworn to everyone on his eternal soul that he would procure their safety, and he'd be damned if he'd break a promise.

At any rate, he was glad his kinsmen hadn't actually banded together on a wild crazed hunt for the beast, because the mania that spread through illiterate people's heads was like a fog, and they would find any scapegoat they could, usually a young innocent who would end up perishing in a fire or a lake. If Ichigo could prevent that, then he would.

Still, he regretted his quest. His father needed looking after, and had increasingly as of late since the loneliness of his mother's death had driven him nearly mad. He'd lost a true love, and even though it had been years, it had been getting worse and worse. At the moment, the poor man could hardly get out of bed, and Ichigo needed to be around to keep things running, to see to it that there was enough money and food to feed his sisters. He wasn't about to marry them off, even if they were at an age to do so. Even if they were what was defined as a 'burden', Ichigo didn't see it that way, and refused to give their hand to any of the men who had tried to arrange to take one of them as a wife. He would sooner marry one of their suitors himself than sell his sisters like scraps of meat for his own gain.

Maybe that was why he was doing this. He wanted his girls to be safe at night, whether it be from the monster, bad men, or simply from starving to death. Even if it wasn't a real dragon, whatever or whomever was burning the crops would eventually cause them to die of hunger, and he wouldn't allow that. He was already living on one meal a day so that there was enough bread and water for his sick father and the twins.

Working with Chad tempering steel had been a welcome change. When Ichigo had been forced to sell their cow and needed some extra money, he'd entrusted his sisters with the farm work for a few nights so he could take on the task. A blacksmith's life wasn't what he'd had in mind at this point, but it was either survive or lay down and die at this point. His family needed to eat. He didn't know what might happen if he was gone for an extended period of time.

It was bad enough that the townsmen knew about his strange mind and the things he saw. If they found out that one of his younger sisters also could, he didn't know what they would do. There had been no talk of running Ichigo out of town or burning him for witchery, but that might've been because of the debt the town owed to Isshin from long ago. If it were to get out that Karin had a power like his, he didn't know if they would do the old witch test on her, where she would either float or drown, or worse, _burn._

If something like that were to happen, he had to be there to protect her. Who knows what men might come and… God, he didn't want to even think about it. The point was, he needed to be around.

Trudging through tall grass and over some hidden rocks, Ichigo looked back from atop a hill at the town at the bottom of the valley. Such simple minds. The curse was all in their heads. Even if there were a dragon out there and a sword, there was no curse. That foolish warrior had been drunk off his own power. The evil had been from within, not from some witch's spell. People were only corruptible if they allowed themselves to be, and all this magic talk was a way to shift the blame when their will wasn't strong enough. Ichigo believed that with all his heart.

Imagining that this was some crazed rogue with a penchant for fire, Ichigo didn't bother drawing his sword as he crunched through some dry leaves, passing between the thick trees. The forest was quiet except for the occasional cawing of birds, and after a few minutes of walking, putting some real distance between him and the town, Ichigo came across the first ash flake, just hanging in the air and drifting slightly on the breeze. For a moment, he just assumed it had been blown from a campsite, but then it puffed to life, turning and displaying a still glowing orange bit.

After a moment, he looked around sharply. How on earth could an ash flake still be smoldering if the source wasn't closer than three feet away? Ash went out immediately in the open air.

The hair stood up on the back of his neck and he put his hand on the hilt of his sword, watching the ash go grey and cold, carried away on the wind as he blew it out of his face. Ominous…

A few moments of silence passed, and Ichigo let his guard drop, continuing on with slightly more caution. He'd probably been seeing things, like always.

Truth be told, his visions had really used to bother him, _scare_ him, even. Mostly because they'd first appeared after his mother's death. Everything had been clearer then because he'd paid them closer attention. He'd see a man hanging from a tree by a rope near their home, his face blue and choked as drool rolled down his neck, his eyes bugging out. Other times he'd come across corpses in abandoned fields with a murmuring ghost wandering nearby, their faces visible all except for gaping black holes where their eyes and mouths should've been.

He didn't see anything around here, oddly enough, as if nothing living existed out here at all except for the animals at this point. There was no spirit activity, which disturbed him, because he wanted to explain that ash flake away as a wraith's illusion.

Letting his imagination run wild, he wondered what he would do if the curse turned out to be real. Man, would that bite him in the ass. To think after all the times he'd denied that and called people stupid for believing in it, and it might really turn out to be true… He'd feel like the biggest jerk. Maybe… Maybe this whole 'curse' thing was just a tortured soul wandering the countryside and throwing a tantrum to spread its grief.

Ichigo climbed over a sheer face of rock, coming to rest down on the mossy ground, the smell of sulfur hitting his nose. Immediately, he could not ignore the carnage before him. This entire area of forest had been burnt down. What bothered him were the huge claw marks in the charred stumps of the trees. Something big had done this, and it was no spirit.

Let's say it _was_ a dragon…

Ichigo swallowed and continued on, thinking back on the legend. He didn't know if a dragon had originally been part of the patron legend of their valley. He knew the part with the sword wielder and the cursed blade by heart, but the dragon… where had that come into play? Why would some random dragon just take it upon itself to guard a sword for what could be forever?… Didn't this dragon thing have something to do with the wrathful spirit that had come out of the blade and taken over the warrior's soul and mind?

That sounded more like a _metaphorical_ dragon to him than anything, but he was beginning to doubt that it was a myth at the sight of the bare grey ground. This was fresh. The trees were blackened and still smoking, some of them red and glowing where the embers were dying down. It wasn't a flattened landscape where only the bare roots and stumps were left. The leaves were gone, but the trunks still stood tall, just blackened beyond recognition. It was almost like… the fire had gone out before it could do irreparable damage… Was that a sign of restraint?... or destructive _sport?_

This was the work of something large, powerful, and rotten. This was no human… Ichigo stepped over the smoldering trunk that had been knocked to the ground, roots left exposed, dirt tangled and dry from the heat.

This had been done by the beast that had been supposedly ravaging their town. He'd seen the bare fields where rows of corn and beans had once stood, but by comparison, this was monumental. He understood where the stories came from now, how they swore that this murderous beast had been occasionally ravaging their village for almost the whole of the last century.

Perhaps this was to do with the cursed sword, perhaps not, but Ichigo knew that either way he'd be doing the world a favor by slaying this animal. It was a danger to everyone. He imagined some drooling growling beast with long blood-stained fangs and thick scales, a wicked tail swiping behind it as the ground cracked under its feet with each step.

Strangely enough, he could see a patch of ground a small ways away from him, and as he approached it, it became clear that this had been the hottest point of the fire. The grass there was withered around the area in a circle, burnt and blackened, like a pillar of flame had blasted up from the ground and then gone out. It seemed like the site of a bonfire, but where were the logs or evidence of the pile of burning wood that would've been needed to cause so much heat damage? He was unable to resist stepping into the center, and from where he stood, he could see up towards the mountain on a lower ledge, a small pink and white flurry that looked about the size of a pinhead because of his distance from it. Still, he recognized a blossoming magnolia tree.

Ichigo shrugged, stepping out of the circle warily as if it were a fairy ring. Wandering off, he had to wonder… because when he saw that all evidence of the creature's little campfire party disappeared almost immediately, it was almost as if the barbecue had been the result of a short violent tantrum and nothing more. The surrounding forest was unscathed, green and lush once again.

The sun still shone high in the sky, and Ichigo hummed merrily as he trudged on. Coming through a meadow and across a small river, he began to see ash hanging in the air again, grey dead ash blowing on the wind.

The sulfur smell was pungent in his nose, but he saw no evidence of a fire as he forged on over hill after hill. Becoming lost wasn't an issue, even though he'd never traversed the forest before even _close_ to this far away from home, but on the way back, he'd just walk in the opposite direction of the mountain. It would be impossible to miss the valley.

Coming to the top of a sunny hill, green grass waving cheerily and begging him to lay down, Ichigo saw some weeds on a distant hill that were giving off smoke, and as he jogged over there to investigate, he saw that they were burning out. What he could not ignore were the brown sections in the long grass and the crumpled areas, as if a large animal had been dragging itself, wounded, on its belly. Maybe this beast had legs that extended out from its shoulders instead of below, like a crocodile.

On the top of this hill, the forest was plain before him, easy to survey, baring the side of the mountain and the blooming tree. Taking a long moment to shield his eyes, eat a piece of bread, and rest, Ichigo began his way down the rocky hill, descending into the thick woods. The smoke smell was growing thicker, although the only trail he could follow were the little ash flakes that he'd sometimes see and the occasional smoking patch of grass. Once in a while, he'd spot a little red flash where a spark hadn't quite gone out, a tiny ember refusing to die just yet.

He was still pretty far away from the supposed 'cursed' ground of the mountain, but the villagers had begun to think that after all this time, the land of the forest was becoming infected by the dark magic. But how could that be?

It was _beautiful_ out here.

Ichigo had never seen such a beautiful place, never having been in the woods when he was younger. He'd had to occupy himself with farmwork and errands. Slaving in the fields, raking the soil always made the sun seem so harsh and unforgiving, because then it was beating down on his shoulders and neck, scorching him. Luckily, he didn't sunburn so easily anymore, like he had when he was little.

But here, oh, here, the wind whispered through the grass and carried him away every time he reached the top of a hill and stood in the warm sun. It was so fragrant, the flowers having a chance to live out here without immediately being chopped up for church decorations. The slight smoke smell was mixing in with the flowers and filling his nose almost like incense, and it was starting to make Ichigo quite sleepy.

He came to a break in the trees that opened onto a vast field of goldenrod, and he flattened out a patch for himself to lie down as he found a natural path through the sparser weeds. Lying back and watching the clouds and the ominous mountain, Ichigo gave a long contented sigh, letting the sun play over his face, the wind tickling through his hair.

If that curse was true, that whole sword and the stone deal, Ichigo would like to see if he was worthy. He'd like to pick up that sword, the key to ultimate power, and then kill that dragon guardian. He'd like to find the sword's previous owner, awaken him, slay him, and then have the sword for himself.

And once he did, he'd melt that wicked sword in the forges and put it to rest deep in the ground. It would never harm anyone again.

Yes, that's what he'd do. Ichigo nodded to himself, his eyes closing as the smell of the goldenrod put him in a heavy daze. The sun was so warm and inviting that he opened up his tunic and lay his head back, enjoying the gentle heat and breeze on his chest.

He'd banish the curse that had been over their valley for over half a millennium, and it all would fade away. Real or not, the fact that the sword was gone would convince people to let go of their fear.

He had to wonder what this dragon was doing, if it was a dragon that was doing this. What business did it have burning the mountainside and destroying the forest, even if it was good for the soil? This was a temperate zone; did it get chilly sometimes for a dragon? But then what was its reason for coming down so far that it reached their town and destroyed their crops? It could just be making a mess while it hunted, but that didn't seem to be so. It didn't make sense why none of their sheep had ever been eaten or slaughtered, because that was what dragons were supposed to do: _pillage._ Was it purposefully burning their homeland?

What was it doing here if it was supposed to be guarding that sword? What had happened a century ago to break its four hundred year-long streak of protecting the cursed blade? Why had this started happening again?

Up on that mountain for so long by itself… Maybe even evil serpents got lonely.

Ichigo gave a sleepy moan, body writhing a little in pleasure as the sun and wind refreshed his skin. He lay still for a long time, contemplating whether the beast would smell him and seek him out. He still wasn't entirely able to wrap his brain around the concept of a creature like that being real, but he'd play the fool and prepare for the worst, even if it still sounded ridiculous to him to really believe that there was such thing out there as a real dragon.

Would it think he'd come to take the sword just because he was wandering these woods? Had it wandered out here to draw challengers? Would it wait for his approach or would he find it feasting on a deer and marking its territory by burning the entire forest to ashes? Maybe it would know why he'd come and would lie in wait for him somewhere. Maybe if he could just find its den…

Feeling a warm pulsating of air on his neck, Ichigo lay still, letting the sun warm him and keep him in a nice doze.

Hopefully the dragon would be the size of a mountain lion and not that of a barn. He didn't know that the mountain would sustain something that big, and the creature's tracks from earlier supported the fact that it wasn't much bigger than him, maybe a little larger than a big cat. In that case, it was feasible that he should be able to wrestle it and stab its heart without losing his own life.

He twitched in his light doze when the warmth on his neck left sharply, leaving him almost cold by comparison. Ichigo's eyes opened blearily, face still lax from sleepiness.

When his sight came into focus, he immediately honed in on a flower not three feet from his face, burning bright like a candle.

* * *

 _They said their eyes are red as flame,  
I heard it told, 'from Hell they came.  
Their breath is fire, their tongues are forked,  
Thus are the beasts  
of Dragon's gate.'_


	2. Chapter 2

_Forever young. I want to be forever young…  
Do you really want to live forever, and ever, forever young?  
_ _Forever young, oh, to be forever young…  
_ _Do you really want to live forever, forever young?_

* * *

The first day of spring had passed with flower petals brushing Renji's nose, as it did every year without fail. The smell burned in his nostrils and told him that it had happened again. Another year gone, and here he was still, unchanged, alone, in eternal standstill, eternal slumber, if you will.

Rising with a low growl, he staggered onto all fours, beginning another day as he always did. He would wander, he would sleep, wander more, sleep more. He might eat if he had the appetite for it.

Such endless monotony, and it _would_ be endless.

Memories were literally a thing of the past, since he'd spent so much time here in this woods that every day he would look back on was basically the same. Trees, birds, rocks, maybe some snow once in a while. All that was left was to think back far, _very_ far, to the day it had happened.

He could still see his friends' faces as they were consumed by the blackness that crept up their necks like there was ink in their veins. He could still see their eyes bulging and the froth at the edges of their lips as they died choking on nothing but air. He would never forget, not ever.

Living in the forest for as long as he had granted a certain naiveté. There were no people out here, no one to distrust or worry about, no one to talk to either, but that was a different matter. He'd become almost childish again, able to make it through each day, but not much else. Nature bestowed innocence, even though nature was exactly what he was now set apart from.

He caught a rabbit easily, cracking its neck in the most gentle way possible and petting it for longer than necessary. Yes, he was childish, perhaps, but what made an adult, anyways? Bitterness, experience, distrust, maybe? All of that was starting to ebb, although paranoia was definitely in bloom within him. He tried to remember if he'd been shy as a child… He couldn't recall, but he was surely shy now.

He ate the little animal raw even though he could cook it easily if he so chose. No, he didn't want to. He still hadn't adjusted to this horrible power even after so many years. He felt like Midas, the mad king, except more destructive, and he didn't want that to happen to _everything_ he touched. No, he could be gentle… He could still be gentle, right? He wasn't a bad person.

How he wished time would go on for him, how he wished he could have a birthday or a child, watch a wife grow old with him or see his own hair slowly getting longer, but all of those simple pleasures and possibilities would never be open to him again.

The paranoia and innocence that had started returning to him… it made him almost afraid of change now. It had been so long that things had stayed the same, and although it hurt, he was anxious about what might happen if things weren't as they'd been anymore. It had been like this for such a long time that he didn't know how to cope with anything else. He didn't know how to function with the idea of staying still _or_ moving forward.

Maybe that was why he couldn't stand the existence of that town down there. What if they came for him? What would he do? What if _no one_ ever came for him? How could he bear it? How could he live with this loneliness for a second longer? But oh, if he was no longer alone, he'd have to fear, he'd have to hide. No, he couldn't be seen by anyone. Never again. He'd been alone for so long, that he didn't know how to deal with that kind of huge change, to suddenly have someone there. He'd crack, he'd _crack!_

But being so lonesome... oh, it just _ached._

Maybe just _one_ person… Just one, that would be okay. If he could just get used to them, he could calm down enough to let that one companion in, but re-entering society would be impossible for him. He was painfully anxious these days. He didn't even like it when he felt like _birds_ were watching him. If he had to be around a group of people, he would completely shut down. Even if they didn't try to kill him, he just wouldn't be able to _breathe_ with them there. Just one would be okay, maybe, if they got to know him… Maybe, if they understood why he did the things he did…

Coming to a clearing, Renji dragged his feet over the ground, grumbling low in his throat. One companion was all he asked, but he knew better than to make friends. Everyone he'd ever known was dead, and those he got to know now would end up the same way. He was cursed to walk alone forever, in the end.

Looking up at the mountain, the cause of all this, his eyes widened and his heart made a dull cracking sound as he caught sight of the magnolia tree.

It was in full bloom, as it always was around the time of the Vernal Equinox. Gorgeous full blossoms were alight in the sun, the petals occasionally falling and blowing down the mountainside, carried on the wind. Each white flower seemed to glow and wave happily in the breeze, flushed pink and round, opened up and bouncing slightly when the branches rocked.

As if to mock him, it stood there so youthful and pretty, ever changing with the seasons, growing taller each year, as it had been for decades. Renji had watched it do so, every spring, watched it bloom more beautifully and more fully every time. Every year it changed and came into itself a little more, it progressed and had a chance to show the world how much it could give, how far it still had to go and _would_ go. Every year it would bear new blossoms, new gifts, new and improved flower petals, but Renji could never give, could never proceed, could never advance even one second in his age.

He was completely and utterly alone in a world of change.

A flower petal blew into his face, and the bitterness of it all made something inside him burst; he roared, hot tears dribbling down his face as he ran forward, screaming at the sky as if daring it to strike him down, to put an end to the only true bastard child in this world, the one thing under that ancient sun that would never age, that could never give or leave behind a legacy.

Unable to stop now that he'd gotten himself going, rage that was long overdue shot from his fingertips and he dug his nails into the trunk of a tree and tore, ripping and leaving black scorch marks deep in the wood, opening the soft white flesh to the air. There lay rings upon rings that had taken decades to accrue, hundreds of passing seasons. How many lovers had gathered here in the past thousand years? How many babies had they left behind, how many songs sung, how many dreams?

Renji could never have any of that.

He could hardly remember the exact shape of his sister's face anymore, could hardly remember his own last name. What was he? God, what was he?

What were humans if they could not age, if they had no one to speak to for so long that they nearly forgot what their name sounded like? No, he wasn't human now. He hadn't been human since his clock had stopped.

He howled at that stupid tree and its ethereal beauty. He had once been like that. He'd had plans for the future, but there was no future anymore, only the most wretched tortured unwanted present that there would ever be. No, this wasn't a gift. It really was a curse.

What had his personality been like back when he'd been a boy? Long long ago, when he'd had friends and loved ones, when he'd had others to speak to? Had he been brave? Living in seclusion for so long had made him quite shy, and the idea of humans being around him made him unbelievably anxious. That village down there would surely send someone to get him one of these days.

Being alone for so long, contemplating nature and his own existence, the never-ending spinning of the world and the position of the stars, it all had made him incredibly naive and lonely, taking him back to the childhood that was just barely on the edge of his memories. All he had was the past now, past memories, since he could never hope to make new ones. No, he could never live life, never again.

" _Rah!"_ he screamed, setting fire to the grass in his fear and rage, the smoke and the unnatural power that had been planted in him only serving to drive him into deeper despair. How horrible he was to be able to do this. Look what he could do! He'd burn the whole mountainside until everything was dead like he was, starting with that horrible tree!

Mourning the loss of his own life, the life he'd never gotten to live, and raging that he was utterly alone, the grass around him fried as a heat wave rolled from his soot-tainted skin. Fire crackled in his ears and all he could do was cry as molten gold dripped down his face, searing deep black lines into his cheeks. He would burn that tree someday. No longer would he have that cruel reminder that another year had passed and that he had remained the same. Why did he count the years anyway when they meant nothing to him anymore?

Eternal youth was no gift; it was nothing to him if he had to live it alone.

Stepping through the carnage, feet buried in the embers, he looked around at the burning wilderness with regret. He didn't really want that beautiful magnolia tree to go up in flames. What had it done to him? It wasn't for him to find fault with the world when he was the only one like this. It must've been something he'd done to make him this way. That horrible sword had done this, but he daren't go back. No, he was afraid.

Even with the terrible power he possessed, even though he held the capability to turn the world into the tenth circle of hell, Renji kept close control on his abilities. He was usually too blue to even cause a spark to light. Only when he was particularly excitable, or nervous, or enraged did his horrible power rear its head, like a normally sweet child with a rare streak of tantrums.

He hadn't been able to help it, the stress and despair of what had to be close to a century bubbling up within him like magma. Tearing up again, Renji's face screwed up as he swiped furiously at his cheeks and took off running, leaving the smoldering glen behind, unable to bear the shame of what he'd done to the forest.

Weeping and stumbling along through a field, unable to tear his eyes from where that flowering tree was growing on the mountainside, he ran his hands through the tall grass on either side of him, trying to convince himself that he could do this gently without causing fire, that his palms weren't weapons, that he wasn't a monster. He could hurt people if he wanted to, but he didn't. He didn't want anyone to ever have to endure pain like he was. Oh, if only he could die, the sweet release it would bring, but he was afraid. He'd tried time and time again to drown himself, standing for ages at the riverbank, but he never had the courage to jump.

Renji was afraid to go and afraid to stay, and that's what angered him most about his eternal standstill. It wasn't just his body stuck here forever, it was his mind too.

He was sure he hadn't been like that in the past. Why would he ever have gone near the place of that sword if he hadn't been brave? God, with his mind clouded by grief, he couldn't remember. Why was he like this? What had he done? Oh, wouldn't someone tell him? Wouldn't someone come say his name to him out loud, just once, to prove to him that he was still real? To keep him going for the next twenty years, the next century, the next _forever?_

A long time ago, he'd tried to keep himself sane, to keep his mental state from deteriorating any further by talking aloud to himself, but he'd ceased that years ago. There was no use at all, and Renji knew that. He was doomed to silence, to walk alone forever, to haunt this mortal plane but never _be_ mortal, never again.

Aching too badly to even let out another single tear, Renji collapsed on the ground, shoulder first with a _whump_ , not moving or adjusting his sprawled position, not seeing a point in making the effort. He thought he would lie here until the winter came again. It wouldn't take long, not compared to how long it was taking for forever to reach him. Forever, man, that was a scary concept… because it just didn't _end._ He would never reach the finish line, not ever, because there wasn't one.

Closing his wet eyes, throat tight and raw from weeping, Renji spiraled into deep depression, nausea swirling within his gut. He easily could've cooked that rabbit he'd eaten, but he'd had it raw, not bothering with using his powers, and now he felt ill. He'd found that he didn't get sick in the sense humans did, but too much sadness and brooding could bring on the symptoms, although no matter how ill he became, he would never never die.

Dooming himself to not move from this spot until he was feeling slightly better, his ear perked slightly when he heard an unfamiliar sound. Human sound. It had been so long that he might've been mistaken. What was that again? 'Voice' or something.

Not having the energy to pick his head up, still too deep in his morose fit, Renji gloomily listened on, trying to discern whether it was the wind or a person. Just the thought of it made him antsy and panicky. He had to get up, to get away before… before, _no._ He couldn't be near another being, not now.

He longed to be a part of the human world again, even though the thought terrified him. He'd heard human sound recently, screaming and wailing when he'd burned their organized plants. He wondered how they did that, getting them to grow in such neat rows. Why would they do that when they could have a wild gorgeous field of goldenrod if they let it grow unabated? Golden like treasure… Why did they want those thin rows anyway? Renji couldn't remember a reason from his human life.

The soil was so unfertile and dusty, that he was really doing them a favor, although that wasn't why he'd burned their stockpiles. He'd needed to gaze upon a human face again, just once more, and to do that, he'd had to venture down from the forest, no matter how frightened he was. They may kill him. They could easily kill him, and he was terrified of this, even though he knew that he could kill them just as easily, perhaps even on accident. No, he had no desire to end a life, not even that of an animal, a single blade of grass. He didn't deserve to live a day longer in this place, in any sense. He deserved neither the blessing nor the torture of eternal youth. If only it had brought him wisdom rather than naiveté and paranoia.

Still, he couldn't pin that sound down. What was this noise?

It sounded like a bee's buzzing, not… It _was_ a voice, but what was it doing? This wasn't singing, it wasn't speaking, but…

Renji picked his head up, heart pounding as he exhaled a breath of hot steam that made a tall weed droop low in front of his face. Scrambling in the dirt as he heard the voice coming closer, he took off running in the other direction, fear giving his body the strength to survive.

Crouching in a low dip that was growing thick with wheat, Renji pressed his torso to the ground, heart rocketing out of his chest as he struggled to calm himself and his volatile emotion-dependent heat powers. Even a single spark, one breath too hot, one wisp of smoke would give him away. His fingernails and hands had turned beet red, and his hair was glowing a bright orange, cooling to a dark scarlet as he controlled his breathing.

His breath caught in his chest as the human came into sight, and oh, he'd forgotten how beautiful they were, how wonderful it was to see a face other than his own demented one. It was only one, thank god - he didn't think he could handle more than one person in his space, even at this great distance. Only one, and such a beautiful one it was.

It was a young man.

His heart clenched painfully as he thought of himself at that age, maybe a little younger than the age that he was right now, only a hundred years later. Oh, Renji envied him and that happy zippy sound he was making. The boy's mouth was closed, and he was half-smiling and squinting against the sun.

His hair was absolutely _golden_ in the sunlight, lit up and shining bright yellow, and his skin… Renji had forgotten skin could be smooth and mono-colored, rather than painted in dark scars like his. His eyes too, glowing in the sun, and maybe…

Renji's breath hushed again and he ducked low, head flattening against his shoulders as he lay on his stomach, watching the man pause and examine a patch of smoking weeds, still burning out from Renji's failed attempt at stroking the field plants without causing flame to erupt. For a moment, all was still except the sound of distant wind in the trees, and then the human continued on.

It was following the trail of ash he'd been unknowingly leaving. Renji began to panic. It was here for the sword, or worse. This man had come to _kill_ him. He'd been sent by the villagers to do away with him.

As welcome as death sounded, Renji was afraid. He was too scared and it angered him. No, he would take this man's life first. He'd take everything, all his dreams and his youth, just as Renji's had been taken. He would kill him; he would burn his body until not even the bones were left.

Hot ire, jealousy, and bitterness bubbled up within Renji's heart, eyes going a glowing fiery red. He followed behind the young man at a far distance, growling lowly and letting his palms heat up and crackle threateningly, fists becoming balls of flame and legs becoming molten pillars that scorched the ground black with each step.

The man wandered for a long time, and it occurred to Renji that he wasn't heading directly for the mountain, which confirmed his fear that the man was searching for _him_ and not the sword. This boy already had a sword of his own on his belt, and Renji's throat tightened up at the sight of the blade.

Having followed for an inordinate amount of time – Renji had lost the ability to keep track – he watched the man descend into a vast field of goldenrod and roll around on the ground, taking a rest. Renji sat there on the hill in plain view for what felt like eons, watching him and trying to build his courage to go down there and kill him while his guard was down. Foolish human, coming here, coming _here_ , the land that he was doomed to walk for all eternity. This was _his_ home, his wretched prison, and no one else's.

Having made it halfway down the hill and then turning tail back up it again three times already, Renji finally held his breath and refused to take a step back, continuing to advance down the hill, pausing every time his nerves got out of control. He hoped the smoke smell that he was leaving by turning the grass to ash in a steady path wasn't too noticeable to the man down there.

Making it down into the field, creeping on all fours through the goldenrod quietly, he crouched low in the weeds and peered through to where he could see the man laying on his back, watching the clouds.

Oh, he'd used to love watching the clouds. When he'd been young and still able to age, that had been his favorite activity, so carefree and relaxed, enjoying leisure time, but now, Renji couldn't watch the clouds without wondering whether it was the wind blowing them, or the earth moving, time passing without him.

He crept forward, silent in the normally rustley plants, getting closer and closer until he was a mere three feet away from the man, and as his heart pounded wildly and he prepared to do the deed, he realized that the young man was sleeping. He'd fallen asleep sun-bathing and his shirt was wide open.

Renji swallowed hard, eyes glowing red, hands heating up as he leaned out of the safeguard of the thick weeds into plain view.

He was gorgeous, the picture of health and glowing youth, skin somewhere between olive and tan, muscles slightly defined, but softened by the sun's warmth and the heavy pull of sleep. That face… Oh, that face.

Renji leaned over him, putting a hand up on the ground on the other side of the man's face to hold himself up as he leaned in so close that his breath was surely hitting his lower cheek and his exposed neck. It would be so easy to bite and melt his spine; it was such a foolishly trusting position, but Renji wasn't tempted in the slightest. He more felt like kissing him stupid simply for being here and allowing him a glimpse of such a beautiful picture, such a relaxed sleeping expression, a low-anxiety situation where Renji could feel safe to get close.

Such an abundance of youth and life should make Renji feel as bitter and rageful as the magnolia bush had, but all he felt was yearning, so deep and powerful that Renji couldn't bear to put this young man's life to an end.

More so, he felt a sharp burst of joy. Another immortal. Surely, another immortal. It had to be. He was so beautiful that it would be too cruel even for a world such as this to ever allow that to die. The things that were commonly the most beautiful were those that lasted for the least amount of time, the most ethereal, such as the first cherry blooms of spring, the first snow-fall, the first frost on the tree trunks, the first born child. Someone like this could never never die.

Cupid's arrow sprouting from between his shoulders, Renji leaned closer, lips trembling as he dared himself to plant a kiss where the youth's neck met his collarbone, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Pulling back and settling on the ground near the young man, lounging on his stomach, keeping most of his hideous body hidden in the weeds, he peeked through the thick stalks of the tangled yellow flowers and just marveled at his beauty. Such a face… he didn't think he'd ever seen a face like this. It had been so long.

With that other man, he'd never gotten to… He'd never gotten even one kiss.

Renji reached out with longing, breath steaming in the air in front of him as his heart pounded hard. He couldn't bring himself to touch him, not even once, but he kept coming close to it, getting nearer each time. Oh, he was _so_ tempted, but he just couldn't do it. He really hated himself down to his bones, always howling at the moon but never having the courage to jump for it.

If he touched this boy and proved to himself that he was real, there was no going back, and Renji wasn't ready for that. He didn't think he could stand it. What would happen to him in the uncertainty? He didn't know how to live any other way than to wait by himself, year after year. No, he couldn't touch him, he just couldn't make himself do it, fingertips halting every time no matter how badly he wanted to _feel_.

At any rate, it felt nice to spend time with someone, even if it was one-sided. Settling his chin on his folded arms, Renji let the sun warm his bare back as he took a moment to rest, trying to enjoy in a single moment like he had a long long time ago, when he had truly felt young. Nostalgia was too painful for him usually, but he allowed it this once.

Leaning forward, long eyelashes brushing against the weed stalks as he peered closer at his new companion's face, he was taken aback in shock for a moment. This boy's hair wasn't golden at all, but bright fiery orange, the tips yellow where they poked into the sunlight and glowed.

Renji felt that rumored love-at-first-sight hit him full force as his mouth hung agape. This… this man was like him. He had vividly bright hair, the color of fire, just like he did. He had to be immortal. He was like Renji; they were kindred souls and Renji had found him at long last. They could spend forever together.

The loneliness was all over… He was too shy to wake him just yet, knowing fully well about his heinous appearance, but Renji felt sure that he could follow this man to the ends of the earth.

He'd found another fire child, another person who would understand the agony of eternal youth, someone who understood that to live forever young was to not live at all, someone who could feel the pain of refraining from passing with time together with him. He finally had someone who could speak his name, who he could actually speak aloud to. Did people still have nice long conversations these days? Did they look in each other's eyes when they spoke and nod when they listened?

This man was surely here to kill him, to slay him and return his head to the villagers, but Renji didn't mind anymore. He'd fallen in love with a sleeping boy, all because they were alike in some small way. Renji had become childish and naive like that, latching onto just about anything, but this felt different. Renji... Oh, he _yearned_ for companionship, and from this person in particular. This boy must've become immortal recently, since he still obviously lived with the humans. He still looked human in every way except for the fire hair.

Even though the fear was monumental now, that this man would hunt and kill him, Renji knew he wouldn't be able to stay away. He'd have to hide, he'd have to follow this boy in the shadows and make sure he didn't lose sight of him. Even if he was never brave enough to call out and say 'here I am', Renji didn't want to stop looking at him for one moment. He couldn't let him get away, even if this boy never even found out that he existed. Renji couldn't lose the only chance for a friend that he had.

The boy moved suddenly, giving a long sleepy breath with just a wisp of a hum, his low voice setting Renji's heart ablaze with fear and passion. He drew back sharply, panicking. He had to get away. Right now! He couldn't be seen. Not yet, he wasn't prepared. He had to introduce himself in increments. His appearance would be too shocking otherwise. Besides that, Renji didn't feel ready mentally. He had to think of something to say beforehand, because he didn't know how to socialize anymore. He would probably be useless to talk to, but he had to try. For now, he had to get away. The proximity was just too much, like a stray cat that didn't mind your presence as long as you didn't get too close.

Oh, but he was so happy, so overjoyed to have someone else here with him that he couldn't contain the wide smile on his face. He'd found someone else like him. He wouldn't be alone anymore. It was all over. His torture was over. He was free.

Renji smiled, a hot tear running from his eye and dripping off his face, hitting a dandelion with a sharp hiss.

* * *

Yumichika scrambled backwards, a hand clapped over his mouth in horror as he realized that the man had woken up. Too stunned and mortified to do anything but back off, he watched as the man arched forward gracefully, stretching and yawning as if he'd simply taken a twenty-minute nap.

It surprised Yumichika to see the muscles in those long legs tense, the warrior's corded body rippling as he finally moved and sat up. Yumichika hadn't realized, what with him lying there completely lax, that he was definitely built for fighting. He wasn't bulky or overly large, and would be an agile warrior, toned and stringy, muscle packed on tight but light.

Still getting over his shock, Yumichika watched as the man leaned back, almost laying back down, supporting himself on his elbows as he slowly dragged a leg off the stone bed and onto the steps. Yumichika moved forward to help, knowing that after five hundred years of sleep, he surely had no strength to stand.

"Oh, hey," the man said, voice deep and raspy, turning Yumichika's bones to water. Yumichika held out a hand politely to help him up, but he was pushed back with the side of a ropy forearm. Yumichika swallowed, unable to reply to the greeting, still having an internal freak out.

He'd kissed this man in a moment of weakness and it had awoken him. Had an act of pure love been the spell-breaker? Was this his true love? That was probably just wishful thinking.

More importantly, did the man _know_ that he'd just kissed him? God, he hoped not. Yumichika wasn't in the mood for a choke-hold just now.

He'd seemed perfectly alert at first, but now he finally was showing signs of grogginess and disorientation. Slightly dazed, the man sat up fully and stretched his arms again, a bunch of cracks sounding as he flexed his back for the first time in half a thousand years. He cracked one ankle and then the other, popping his toes, twisting his neck from side to side. Then, to Yumichika's amazement, he slowly stood up.

Yumichika stared for a moment as the man tested the ground beneath his bare feet, rocking from one hip to the other, giving a lithe twist at the waist to crack his spine. When he turned back to him, Yumichika finally smiled and tried to say something, but the man just shouldered past him and headed off without paying him the slightest nod.

Yumichika stuttered and followed after him hesitantly. Oh, that had just _crushed_ him. How he hated to feel invisible. Think of that – _spurned_ by the hero of his childhood. How could he go on living? "W- Wait!" he cried. "Where are you going?" he shouted after him, cupping his hands around his mouth to call him back. Giving up, he hurried after him when he saw that the man hadn't even slowed down and was half-way across the clearing already.

He didn't understand. If that had been a true-love kiss, what was going on? Hadn't the spell broken? Didn't this man even care who he was or why he'd been there when he'd woken up? More importantly, where was he going so soon after getting out of a five hundred year enchanted slumber?

"To my village," the man called back, his accent slightly different than Yumichika's own, which was surprising considering the sheer amount of time between them. Yumichika had thought it would be almost impossible to understand him. The man finally acknowledged him, continuing with speaking, although he didn't stop or even turn towards him. Yumichika didn't think he'd been looked at even once. "I'm looking for-"

Immediately, Yumichika knew what was happening. The sword of the legend hadn't been put to rest with the warrior and was obviously somewhere else, waiting to be retrieved, which was where the fighter was heading off to – or where he _thought_ he was. The sword was obviously on the mountain, but the guy didn't seem to realize that yet. The important thing was that the warrior still obviously wanted it.

Yumichika had hoped that the true love kiss would've been the cure to his blood-lust, but it seemed that it had merely awoken him from sleep. Maybe Yumichika's love hadn't been pure enough. Love that came from staring wistfully at a stranger while they slept could only get so deep, after all. He _refused_ to believe that it hadn't worked simply because he wasn't a woman. He must not have been passionate enough, merely hopeful, and it probably hadn't held enough power or meaning to really besway the legendary warrior's ambition.

Yumichika had always known that true love didn't exist anyway, but it was still disappointing. All he'd done was awaken him, doing nothing to soothe his power-lust, because he still wanted the sword. Yumichika hadn't tamed his heart.

So then, he hadn't been worthy after all…

Yumichika felt his heart sink in sadness, hope that he hadn't known had arisen being crushed ruthlessly. But wait, maybe… _Maybe_ he had to keep trying? He had to persuade him to forsake his old ways to save him from himself, and he, only _he_ could do it, because he'd been the one deemed special and capable enough to wake him up! To try to fix a person like this, it was something only a true love would and could do!

Oh, but that seemed like such an impossible task. How on earth could he change a man like this, someone who'd held their resolve through a five hundred year curse? Even after being cursed and put out of battle for so long, the man's desire to return to his old life hadn't diminished. Determination that could withstand five hundred years and a fierce curse, what could Yumichika do against that? Surely, he had no chance to even _hope_ for a change out of him, not even for the sake of love.

It was clear to him that no matter how great his love became, as long as that sword existed, Yumichika didn't stand a chance.

"It's gone," Yumichika suddenly interrupted hollowly, which halted the man in his tracks; Yumichika's heart immediately stopped. He turned slowly, eyes sharp and glittering, and Yumichika felt a thrill of fear go down his spine. His gaze was dark and warning, his expression drawn and tensed in a scowl, just as Yumichika had imagined it would be when he'd gazed upon his sleeping face. For one horrible moment, he thought that he would be strangled to the point of death, because he knew that the warrior suspected that he'd stolen the sword for himself. The point was, it didn't matter what he'd actually done to it, because he'd admitted that he knew _something._

The man started stalking towards him and Yumichika took a step back in alarm, having a long time to prepare for the approach. Taking another step back, holding his breath, Yumichika held his ground, leveling the warrior with a steady gaze of his own, hoping the man could feel that he cared, that he wanted to help him, to _save_ him.

He felt extremely intimidated and threatened, the aura of a man from another time who had killed hundreds just swallowing him up. He didn't want to be a pushover, because he knew that someone like this would have no respect for him if he let himself be steam-rolled. The warrior halted in front of him, and Yumichika lifted his eyes to meet his gaze, struggling not to look at his own feet. It pierced him straight in the heart to have that man looking him directly at his face, in his _eyes_ , searching for deceit.

"That was the legend, right?" he said, stuttering slightly. "You've been asleep for a long time." Suddenly, the man's face pinched as if he'd gotten a massive headache from out of nowhere, and he lunged for Yumichika, who got out of the way just in time, heart sputtering. He yelped when he was swiped at again, scrambling away, this time not waiting around to see if he was going to continue his attack. He fled, which seemed to make the warrior even angrier, causing him to give chase and grab for him as Yumichika kept out of reach.

"You're- _You_ did this!" he roared, nabbing Yumichika by the shoulders and shouting in his face, shaking him so roughly that Yumichika's teeth clacked together. Yumichika seized up, hands in fists at his sides, shoulders around ears. He made a small noise, but didn't flinch away, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard an angry grunt and received a hard shove, crashing to the ground.

The swordsman spun in place and plopped down into a sitting position with crossed legs, incredibly agile. He propped one hand up on his knee, the other arm supporting his head as he sulked. Yumichika watched him for a moment, still in shock that he was still alive. He could've snapped his neck just now, but he hadn't. Had… Had he seen that he'd scared him and backed off?

"What?" Yumichika asked timidly, brushing dirt off himself as he crept closer, inspecting the grazes on his forearms for a moment. He wouldn't deny that he was intimidated by the man's volatile attitude and his undeniable ability to kill him if he so chose. Besides that, the very fact that he was talking to a living legend was absolutely nerve-wracking, but other than that, it was surprising just how human he was. Yumichika had expected a complete monster, but he just seemed… _distraught_ more than anything.

"Ne," Yumichika prodded when he merely received a grumble in reply, standing up and leaning down to touch his shoulder, causing him to stand up in a flash.

"You're the reason I was asleep!" the man shouted, rounding on him again and grabbing him by the collar with both hands. Yumichika winced as saliva hit his face, but he didn't flinch back, not letting himself be bullied. This warrior could surely strangle him with his bare hands, but without that sword, Yumichika doubted he'd try. "How else would you know about it?!"

"That doesn't make any sense," Yumichika said back, half-shouting as he tried to pry those rough hands off his collar. He'd expected the man to be disoriented and confused, but he'd also expected at least a _thank you._ Legend or not, this guy was starting to irk him.

" _What_ doesn't?! That is black and white, na?! I caught your lie, now you _give it up!_ " he demanded, having a high temper that proved that he was an _extremely_ aggressive guy. It was too bad for him that Yumichika was tired of being a doormat, and wouldn't be pushed around so easy now.

"It's a _story_ , do you see? It's a famous story! It's been told for half a thousand years! You crossed a witch and were put into eternal sleep to teach you a lesson." The man paled slightly, but seemed to accept that this wasn't the person who had placed the enchantment on him.

He sat back in silent horror for a few moments, eyes distant. He was so quiet all of a sudden that Yumichika really felt bad for him. Yumichika knelt next to him and held out a comforting hand to his shoulder.

"I know it's a lot to t-"

The man seized his own cheeks and wailed in absolute horror, causing Yumichika to lean back, startled. The warrior ignored him completely as he looked off into the distance, nails digging into his face. "Five hundred years, how could it be?!… So many fights I could've… Oh, what a waste," he bereaved. Then he turned and gave Yumichika a pointed glare. "Even if you didn't do it, you still knew about it and knew where I lay. You're probably in league with that… ugh, that _bitch_ _!"_ He stood up with a growl and stalked off.

"Huh? The witch?" Yumichika asked. So there really _had_ been a witch.

"Yeah, that's what I meant," he grumbled, beginning to rage out loud, whether it was to himself or Yumichika, it wasn't clear. "What, did she imagine that after five hundred years I would just wake up a different man? I don't see her point. All she's done is prolong what was meant to be and save a few generations of men from me, but no more. What kind of useless magic is that?"

Yumichika had to pause at that. It seemed like _he_ didn't know what the spell-breaker was either. Damn. Now Yumichika couldn't help but believe that it had indeed been the kiss, and that the witch had purposefully kept that secret from him before putting him to sleep.

"What's your name?" In any of the legends, he'd never heard the man's name. The most distinct feature about the warrior was that his fighting skills were unlike any in the world. What did his name matter with a legacy like that?

Still, after putting a face to the man from the story, Yumichika felt his idol take a serious step down from his pedestal, because once and for all, it was proven that he was _human_ , and humans had names and birthdays and favorite colors.

The man gave him a long sharp look, before sighing, as if he'd made up his mind to break one of his own personal policies. "Madarame Ikkaku."

"Your name… eto… Madarame… san?" Yumichika guessed, wondering if he would demand 'sama' be attached. Ikkaku didn't pay him any attention other than growing inexplicably red.

"Ikkaku is my given name," Ikkaku said gruffly, not turning to look at him as he continued along the wall of the glen, searching for a way out, resorting to climbing when Yumichika didn't show him the tunnel entrance. He suddenly realized that _Ikkaku_ was the man's first name.

Yumichika had never heard a name said backwards like that, and had never heard a name such as that before either. "I've never heard a name like that."

"Maaaa, It probably died out. Heh', in five hundred years, men were too fearful to name their sons by me. That's just the kind of legacy I would've wanted. I'm known for my fighting skills so much that my name came away from the stories, huh? Soon I'll show them my face on top of that wicked mountain. A man like me would never be forgotten, not even after all this time."

"Ahh... Uh-huh." Yumichika fretted a little bit. This Ikkaku was quite the character. So _arrogant._ How was he ever going to change the opinion of someone like _this?_ Did this guy have _any_ redeeming qualities that made him worth saving?

Even if he was turning out to be an annoying bastard that didn't care about anything but his own reputation, Yumichika still kept thinking back to that true love thing. What if this man was his one and only love? Even if those traits were horribly ugly – things he saw in himself as well – wasn't it Yumichika's duty to at least give it his very best try?

"I'm gonna' go up there, and show that bastard my _face,"_ Ikkaku repeated. Yumichika practically winced, holding a hand out to his back as if to stop him, but pulling back just as quickly when a rock fell down the side of the wall.

"You'll just go back to your old ways? But, but the sorceress was trying to teach you something! Do you not think of that?" he called as Ikkaku lost his footing and skidded down the rock wall, landing on his feet smoothly.

He took a moment to think about it as Yumichika had suggested, scratching his bare head and then putting his fist to his mouth in contemplation, and when he was finished, to Yumichika's chagrin, he said, "I hope she's still around, so that I may kill her."

"Maybe she is," Yumichika said, sweating when he realized how easily he might get on Ikkaku's bad side if he became too insistent, "but… you're awake now, so… no reason to… uh-"

"I'm not so angry about falling asleep. What's done is done."

"Then what-"

"She has my sword, damnit! She _must_ have it!" Ikkaku shouted, turning on him, "and I'll kill her! It takes more than a long nap to change my ways. If there be a man out there who could make me lay down my weapon, let them step forward and challenge me himself. Otherwise, I see no obstacles," he said darkly, looking him right in the eyes, making Yumichika feel about two inches tall. "Show me the way out."

Yumichika pointed weakly towards the exit, watching him go with a disappointed gaze before drifting after him, following him in his quest for the mountain.

"Ikkaku, can't we rest? Don't you need time to think this through? That place is cursed."

"Yes, but it's _my_ curse, isn't it. And I'll rest when I'm dead. If you aren't lying to me, I've rested for nigh a half-millennium. I've no time to talk."

"But the sword! It's horrible! You could slay the world!" Ikkaku merely laughed, seeming to like that idea. Yumichika stumbled after him out of the tunnel, nearly tripping in his hurry. How could a man like this _ever_ be worthy of a sword of ultimate power? He'd be the doom of them all. "Why do you laugh at something like that? Don't you _care?_ Do you just have no regard for human life?"

Ikkaku turned towards him sharply, the midday wind blowing through his clothes, the back-lighting from the sun giving him a stark appearance. "You know nothing about that sword," he said roughly, pointing in his face, the devil's glint in his eye. "You've never even _seen_ it. One look at you would tell me that, so don't you talk like you know more about it than me." Ikkaku looked desolate then, _hungry_ even. "You'd… if you'd held it in your hands even once and heard its promise of power, you'd understand," he said darkly, voice raw before he turned towards the mountain.

Yumichika paused then, watching the dark line of Ikkaku's back and his fingers clenching and unclenching. There was a horrible sort of beauty in seeing him standing there, facing away, staring up at the mountain, bathed in sunlight. The wind rustled the grass around his bare feet lightly, and Yumichika had to move his hair out of his face, his heart absolutely breaking when he heard Ikkaku's next words.

"Look… The tree is in bloom."

Bittersweet pain exploded through him, seeing the blossoming magnolia tree up there in the far distance, petals blowing occasionally like rare flakes of snow. That's what Ikkaku was: an agent of change. Sometimes it was a gentle thing, like the introduction of winter into spring, but others… Volcanoes and meteorites came to mind. Ikkaku could destroy every living thing, but what killed Yumichika the most, was that Ikkaku was headed for _self-_ destruction first and foremost.

"Just as it was that day," Ikkaku continued, voice dazed, and Yumichika couldn't bear to hear more. He stood there for a moment gazing at the mountain from the top of the grassy hill, seeming to be appreciating the view until Yumichika simply couldn't take the silence, falling to pieces behind him.

Seeming to break out of his memories, Ikkaku finally took a step forward, and Yumichika broke completely. He couldn't let this happen. It might not be true love, it might not be _regular_ love, but oh, it hurt so badly. He couldn't let this man walk away. He had to make him see sense, even if that was impossible.

"Stop!" he shouted, grabbing the back of his yukata, "You'll go to hell!"

"I'll worry about that once I'm neck-deep in the flames." Not even a single glance was spared for him.

Yumichika let go, watching Ikkaku trudge down the hill, unrelenting. Despairing, he stood rooted to the spot, knees wobbling as he watched his maybe-love march to his doom. He should follow him, he really should. He had to try his hardest to make sure he didn't return to the sword, to make sure it didn't drive him to madness once again.

Its power must be magnetizing, seeing how determined Ikkaku was, and for the first time, Yumichika believed that the sword's magic was very real. It had to be to have driven such rigid loyalty from Ikkaku.

Really, he should follow, but hard as Yumichika tried, he couldn't lift his feet, heart ripping in two a little more with every inch of distance put between them. He thought he would burst into flames from the pain.

"Oi!" Ikkaku called from the bottom of the hill, turning back to him. "You coming?"

"You want me?" Yumichika said softly, then speaking up and calling back to him, "You want me to accompany you?"

"You may follow, but if you get in the way of my goal in any way, I will not hesitate to strike you down!"

Yumichika swallowed hard, letting the wind and sun do with him as they would, before watching Ikkaku turn and continue walking away into a wheat field. Taking one slow shaky step, he inhaled deeply and followed behind, getting the feeling that he might end up doing this for the rest of his life.

What was he getting himself into?

* * *

 _And would you tear my castle down, stone by stone,  
and let the wind run through my windows  
till' there was nothing left  
but a battered rose?_


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm nearly human!  
Look at me, I'm almost a human being._

* * *

The realization of his situation closed in on him at the speed of light, and within seconds, Ichigo was on his feet, holding his shirt closed, heart pounding as he stared at the flower, which had now burnt out and was smoldering lightly and breaking apart into a pitiful pile.

The beast had been here, it had been _that_ _close,_ and only a moment ago too. Ichigo whipped around, panting and gazing in all directions, seeing a dip in the goldenrod off in the way he'd come from, a parting where it seemed something had torn ass away from him. Of course, it had been a scare tactic. It was a deliberate threat. It had snuck up on him and told him this was _its_ territory and that it had been able to strike so silently that he was lucky to be alive. It just wanted to fuck with him before killing him.

Heart rate accelerating, Ichigo fastened his shirt at the waist again by retying his belt, then kneeling down in front of the little ash fragments that were left of that flower. It wasn't goldenrod that had been the target, but a small patch of dandelions that had been where he was resting his head. It was a direct taunt, and it made Ichigo grit his teeth, never mind that he knew that the beast had no way of knowing that this was the exact play always used against him as a kid: 'Dandelion head.' It was a deep insult, but more than that, it made him angry and frightful that the beast had gotten so close to him, probably contemplating killing him while he was defenseless. He was only alive because it had allowed it.

Ichigo grit his teeth with a snarl. He'd make a shield from the hide of its back so that it would feel sword blows to its flesh long after its death.

Letting the wind ruffle his hair, Ichigo looked ominously in the direction the beast had fled in. It was close by. It had known he was there while he was searching. It had probably smelled him and tracked him just as _he'd_ thought he was doing to the beast. Maybe it was as clever as he'd imagined. Dragons certainly were no joke.

Stalking off in search of the animal, he could definitely tell that it was angry now. Burnt trees were in abundance, the grass was blackened, and he could see cooling dark blotches along the ground. _Prints._

"Where are you? Face me!" he challenged, coughing through the smog. Ash was floating everywhere now and the ground was soft like sand.

Hearing a rattling noise on his right, his head snapped towards the noise and he saw some unscathed grass rustling and something running away. It was too quick for him to tell anything except that something had indeed been there. He ran after it, determined not to lose the beast that would surely destroy the whole mountainside in a fit of rage if it wasn't stopped.

It wasn't hard to follow now, because it was upset and leaving behind burning plants wherever it tread. Luckily, dry leaves had a short burn-life and green plants had a hard time catching seriously aflame, so the forest wasn't in real danger just yet. Ichigo felt like he was right on its trail, but couldn't help but realize that he was being led in a circle after a while... He'd seen that tree before, still blackened on the lower trunk, but now with huge gouge marks in the bark. It had backtracked...

Turning around, hair standing up on his neck, he got the distinct impression that _it_ was following _him_ and not the other way around.

Swallowing hard, he broke the trail and looked around him warily before taking off in a random direction, going as far and as fast as he could, turning frequently and getting thoroughly lost in the woods, trying to put some space between him and the beast. If it could smell him, it would be able to find him, but at least it would take some time if he got downwind.

Coming into a grassy clearing sparsely dotted with thick trees, Ichigo came to rest for a moment, eyes straining against the tangled brambles.

He wiped his face furiously when he began hallucinating that something was after him, that something was there. The smoke was getting to him, the smell filling his nostrils even though he'd gotten far away from the burning part of the forest. If he thought about it that way, it seemed like the dragon's rage was short-lived and volatile, because he hadn't seen anything seriously burning. Mostly everything was burning _out._

Had he gotten heat stroke? No, that was impossible. Other than being near those patches of ground where heat waves were still rising, there hadn't been anything seriously on fire, nothing enough to send his body into overload. Maybe the fear was getting to him. He felt like prey and he didn't like it. So much for showing no fear. He couldn't stand this paranoia, having to constantly check his back.

Barely containing the urge to scream and let the beast know where he was just to get their fight over with, he took out his sword and dragged the tip through the dirt as he paced wildly.

Gasping at the slightest noise, he whipped around, looking up and seeing birds taking off in flight from the tops of the trees in the distance. Then a noise came from the opposite direction, small enough that it could've just been a leaf falling through the brambles. Goosebumps rose on Ichigo's arms and he tightened his grip on his sword in determination. He didn't like this uncertainty. Why wouldn't it just come out in the open?

His knees knocked once when he finally heard steps, slow dragging steps and low growling. Something was definitely out there, and it was coming closer. Refusing to run, Ichigo held his sword at the ready, struggling to peer through the trees at what he kept catching only small glances of. A tiger? It was a large animal, and _there_ … _There, he could see it_. It wasn't the fragmented shadows causing it. It was definitely there, circling him slowly. There seemed to be black stripes somewhere on its body.

As soon as he caught a glimpse of it, it was gone, perfectly camouflaged in the shadows.

"Come out!" Ichigo shouted, hearing the movement stop sharply. What followed was an oppressive silence that made him swallow hard, heart pumping in high gear. He could tell that it had changed positions and was probably behind him now, silently tensing and waiting to pounce. He just stood there helplessly, muscles tense and sword held aloft. He felt like a mouse. Where was it, in front or behind? God, he had no idea. He was a meal waiting to happen.

He finally heard a grunting noise and some rustling in the brambles and took a step back, holding his sword out in warning. He could see something moving through the shadows again, and he really thought it was a tiger for a moment given how close it was to the ground.

After squinting through the thorns and vines, trying to make sense of what he was seeing and what was making that low grumbling noise, he took a step forward, seeing the beast shrink back an equal amount. No way… Was it afraid… of _him?_

"Come out," he demanded again, and all of a sudden, there came a crackling noise and a burst of flame near the ground, which quickly began spreading through the dry thicket. Ichigo took a step back from the smoldering bushes, not wanting the beast to get away, but not wanting to rise to such a direct threat. As he moved back, the heat died down again, leaving the branches smoking lightly.

"Why are you burning our crops? Why do you do this?" he called, knowing that most dragons could understand human speech just fine. "Tell me why you're angry!"

A low snapping sound came from the bushes, and Ichigo could see something big moving around. "Are you afraid of something? How about I…" It was a big gamble, but Ichigo put his sword away and held his hands up. "You probably know why I've come, but I won't move to attack you if you give me no reason. Come out and face me. I know you can speak."

The animal drew back a step, and Ichigo could see dark leathery skin, striped with black soot. It was on all fours, crouched in the darkness, warily tensing over and over as it decided on taking a step forward or a step back.

"Don't make me come after you! Come into the light!"

Ichigo took a step forward threateningly, and to his surprise, instead of turning and fleeing, the dragon lay down flat on the ground, shoulders hunched up, maybe flattening its ears to its head and tucking its tail away. Was it that afraid that it was petrified? Or was it tensing to pounce?

As he got closer and closer, the light began to penetrate the thorns and Ichigo could see it easier, piecing together… No, it didn't make sense – how could it be a dragon? These pieces didn't fit. Coming nearer, the beast got more and more tense, smoke shooting from its nostrils as it panted heavily in what sounded like panic. Still, it just lay there huddled up tightly.

"Hm? Why do you keep silent?" Ichigo coaxed, holding a hand out, which finally made it startle violently, rattling around in the cooling embers of the thorn bush. Ichigo jumped, but didn't withdraw, because it hadn't snapped at him.

It made a low groaning sound, not of pain or irritation, just a long low keening. It was a voice indeed, not that of an animal. It was definitely a dragon, but Ichigo just couldn't figure how it was supposed to look with so much of it still hidden. It certainly wasn't built like the dragons from his childhood books.

Keeping his hand still but not advancing, Ichigo remained there for almost a full minute, breathing calmly despite his pounding heart. Slowly, he heard claws digging into the dirt and saw the creature move forward. Finally coming into the light, staying behind its protective tangle of vines, Ichigo caught a small glimpse of its face and the hand mirroring his. A _hand…_

It was a man.

A demented half-crazed disheveled looking man, but a _human_ nonetheless. Ichigo's surprise must've shown on its face, because the man's face pulled into one of distress and borderline panic, and he drew back just as quickly as he'd reached out to Ichigo.

Ichigo took a step back. It must be a mistake. He must've been mistaken. He'd been so sure that it was a wild animal, that it had been the sword's guardian and the cause of the mountain fires. It had even caught fire to those same bushes not a moment before. A necromancer? A sorcerer gone mad? Ichigo didn't _believe_ in that kind of magic, so how was it possible?

When Ichigo backed off and seemed like he was going to leave, the man rustled the bushes slightly, putting a hand into the light, holding himself steady on the ground and crawling out, peering shyly through the branches as he crouched on all fours. He reached out to him with one hand again, but when Ichigo turned to look at him, he drew back in alarm once more.

Still blocked slightly, Ichigo gave him a long gaze. His hair was long and a dark, dark red. When he said red, he didn't even mean the dull rust color of Irish redheads; he meant an honest blood red. Tangled and ratty, it was tied in a half ponytail, most of his bangs having fallen, with the rest hanging down around his shoulders. His teeth were red and his face was smeared with blood, and soot covered his body head to toe, streaked in a tribal pattern so dark and fierce that they looked like tiger stripes.

The giveaway that this was no human were the eyes, glowing red and hot like the live coals of a fire, some small specks burning brighter and then cooler every so often, as if Ichigo really were looking into a furnace. All the same, this was no dragon, at least not in current form. Perhaps it could shape change, because Ichigo didn't see the claws that would've been capable of tearing down those trees.

Only having had about a second to adjust to the heinous gruesome appearance, the sheer surprise that it wasn't the monstrous beast he'd expected, but in what seemed like human form, took Ichigo aback.

"You're not…" Ichigo trailed off, gazing intently into those terrified eyes, the eyes that were so naïve and afraid that Ichigo felt compassion bubbling up within him. Sword guardian or not, there was no mistaking that this dragon, person, whatever, was _deathly_ afraid of him.

It finally spoke up, voice deep, but incredibly timid, cracked from lack of use. "You've been sent to kill me." It wasn't a question, and Ichigo could see its glowing eyes flick to the sword on his belt and then back to his face, going a brighter orange, as if there was a fire within its skull that was becoming hotter by the moment. He felt like they were burning a hole in his brain from the force of the anxious gaze. Ichigo became extremely on his guard, knowing that scared animals could become incredibly violent.

"Yes," he admitted, standing more at ease, although he didn't know what this crazed man would do out of desperation for his own safety. Cornered animals often lash out, and he wasn't entirely convinced that this wasn't the dragon in some warped form.

It drew back slightly, wild eyes shining through the shadows casting over its face. Ichigo watched its hair spill over its shoulders as it changed position and crouched in apprehension. 'It' or 'he?' Ichigo didn't know. When Ichigo made no move to strike him down or pursue him, he shyly raised a hand towards his own head, pointing to his cherry-red hair.

"You're… You're like me," he said softly, voice absolutely _choked_ with the hope in the statement.

Ichigo gave a sad smile, which the man tried to copy, showing his red teeth uncertainly, but Ichigo shook his head. It thought he was a dragon too, huh? Because his hair was bright and flame-colored like his? That was a jab about his hair that he hadn't heard before, but it was oddly sweet. "No. I'm not like you." He felt let down when he saw the utter disappointment he had caused. The man looked devastated, eyes lowering to the ground.

Ichigo took a step towards him, holding out a hand for him to take so he could stand up, but the man shied away, scrambling backwards and climbing into a tree. Had he thought Ichigo would _hit_ him? Ichigo tried to approach but it only made him more distressed, and Ichigo had to back off if he didn't want to get landed with a wild kick. This guy was a lot bigger than him in terms of body mass.

Able to see the man better now where he was peeking over a branch, Ichigo was pleased to see that he wasn't completely naked out in the woods, although that would've supported his 'dragon-human-shapeshifting' theory. He had on mid-calf-length pants made of animal hide, and Ichigo could now see just how large and threatening this man could be if he chose. He had the flame powers without a doubt, and had been the one to burn the mountainside, but he had ash smeared all over him like war paint and was behaving like a frightened animal. He wasn't hissing, but he was making low keens of distress whenever Ichigo reached for him. When Ichigo almost touched him, the guy actually _growled_ at him.

"You're just gonna' stay up there forever?" Ichigo called, seeing that the man had climbed incredibly high in his desire to put some distance between them. He didn't answer, clinging to the tree trunk like a shy kid holding their parent's leg, and peered down at him, hair hanging. "Saa," Ichigo sighed, sitting down at the foot of another tree across the clearing, stretching out in the grass and pillowing his arms behind his head. "I'll just wait here then."

The man didn't move for a few minutes, and when Ichigo closed his eyes and stayed motionless for a longer time, he swung upside down, hanging from a branch so he could get a peek at him. When Ichigo cracked an eye open, he could see the guy tense up and grit his teeth. Sheesh, this guy was really something else. He was like a scared deer.

Yes, a rabbit ready to bolt, but with the power and killing capability of a tiger. Ichigo needed to tread carefully.

"Why do you burn the mountainside, huh? You should stop. My village is gonna' starve because of you," Ichigo said in a calm but flippant voice, as if what he was talking about didn't _really_ matter. He just had to coax this guy out and lull him into a false sense of security. Then he would strike.

The man mumbled something as if he was afraid to be shouted at, and Ichigo put a hand around his ear, speaking up.

"Haa? Come on and talk to me, ne? You'll have ta' come down from there at least. Come on an' talk to me." The man tensed up and hugged the tree limb tighter for a moment before climbing down a bit and then hopping down. He was curious at the very least, even if he was scared. Ichigo just waited patiently as he crawled awkwardly towards him, hands on the ground in front of him, squatting and moving sideways towards him, drawing back frequently.

As he finally came into the sunlight, he paused for a moment, staring Ichigo in the face. He didn't seem to want to be looked at directly, because when Ichigo gazed back for too long, his head dipped down towards his shoulders, drawing as low as he could while still maintaining eye contact.

He looked like a wild animal, blood streaked over his face and teeth, some flesh actually still stuck there. His hair was long and tangled, lighting up in the sun and then genuinely so when the man grew distressed and heated up. Soot and ash was smeared on his bare chest and arms in a tribal stripe pattern, the rest just dark black smudges that were obviously accidents. Ichigo was surprised by his musculature, because he'd looked so _hungry_ before, almost _starved_.

When Ichigo made no comment on his crazed appearance, simply staring at him, his red eyes heated up from orange to yellow to white in a split second, and Ichigo could see him draw back, seeming horrified at Ichigo's reaction to him.

His volatile emotions and the way they seemed to affect his obvious ability to catch spontaneous fire scared Ichigo shitless, but he didn't let it show. If he could calm it down, he wouldn't get burnt.

"Oi, what's the matter, huh?" he said with a grin, gesturing him over, which caused him some alarm, because the man flinched violently as if he was afraid to be struck. Giving up on that, Ichigo unbelted his sword and tossed it behind him. He just sat there, smiling reassuringly, watching the man's palms slowly cool down back to normal flesh color.

Inside, his heart was pounding, and his stomach twisted with disgust. What had this guy been eating?... He knew that he could talk, so he wasn't stupid, but he really was behaving like a frightened animal. He was like a naive kid, but still Ichigo couldn't stop staring at the dark blood smeared on his face. This guy was dangerous.

Ichigo sat up, hands in his lap where the man could clearly see them, but not motioning him forward. He gave him a cautious look, and then Ichigo smiled at him brightly. After a moment of what looked like a genuine blush, he began smiling too, just a little, very shyly as he scooted closer and closer, _really_ close, _too close_.

He didn't seem to have personal boundaries anymore, getting right in his face, looking Ichigo all over. He gave a breathy laugh, licking his teeth and smiling genuinely this time, meeting his eyes again. Ichigo could tell it was a real reflex of happiness this time, because it wasn't forced and looked natural on his face. Ichigo cleared his throat and tilted his face away slightly, the stench of raw meat overpowering him.

The man sat back for a moment, rubbing his face with his wrist and licking around the corner of his mouth, seeming to realize that he looked beastly and trying to remedy that. He got rid of most of the blood, but ended up smearing ash on his cheek. Ichigo raised a hand without thinking to wipe it away, and the man snapped back, drawing away a few feet.

This repeated for the next ten minutes – Ichigo trying to get the man to talk to him, and the man moving away over and over whenever Ichigo moved even slightly, thinking he was drawing a knife or something. He hardly sat still for a single second at that rate, constantly moving away and then back in, conflicted immensely. He seemed to want to be touched so badly, but was just too skittish, like a wild cat that secretly wants to be petted.

Ichigo gave a tight grin, sighing, making an effort to quiet his voice. _'Shh, he's startled. You've gotta' be gentle with wild animals.'_

"Na, why are you so jumpy?" he asked plainly, although he knew exactly why it was jumpy. Animals could read emotions, and this guy could probably see right through him and his true intentions. All the same, he put on an expression of concern, mindful of just how far away his sword was from behind him on the left. Any minute now, he'd reach for it and…

He flicked his eyes to him, fidgeting, and after a few moments of silence and seeing that Ichigo wasn't just going to keep talking without receiving an answer, he made a small noise, "… Hn." He blushed red from embarrassment rather than a heat reaction and tried again, mouth opening and closing, a small choked noise coming out instead of words. His brows furrowed and he let out a loud growl of frustration, baring his teeth and opening his mouth again, nothing intelligible escaping. He eventually put his hands over his pink face, eyes still peeking through his fingers, the perfect picture of distrustful miserable humiliation.

"Are you shy?" Ichigo asked, leaning into his space a little bit, and by 'leaning into his space', he meant, 'bending forward an inch when there was a full four feet of space between them.' It still seemed to startle him slightly, because he tensed and visibly swallowed. "Just take your time," Ichigo said, and the man eventually settled onto his backside instead of rocking anxiously on his hands and knees, constantly ready to bolt. Every once in a while, a spark would hiss and shoot off him somewhere.

Still, he sat back, trying to calm down. He even folded his legs like Ichigo did, looking at him carefully to copy him. "Ah… Nn…" He cleared his throat, putting his fist to his mouth for a second in contemplation, eyes flicking up at him. Ichigo knew that he could talk, because he had earlier, so he just assumed he was having trouble or something, and waited patiently.

"I'm sorry," he finally said in a raspy voice, like he'd been crying for ages or gone without water for a month. Ichigo was instantly attracted to that deep voice, which rumbled in his chest like a growl, but was still incredibly warm and so shy that Ichigo felt quite guilty for intimidating him – although he still didn't know how it was possible given their size difference.

"I haven't seen another person up close in so long… I almost forgot how to speak," he said quietly, clicking his thumbnails together, fidgeting lightly. "Can you… understand me?" he asked cautiously when Ichigo didn't respond.

"Yeah. You're afraid of me?" Ichigo pressed. The man gave him a nervous side-glance, taking unnaturally long in responding. It seemed like he'd forgotten how to go about a conversation in an appropriate manner.

"It's… ah… been a long time, I… I must seem… f-… ah… ridiculous," he went on, voice wrenched. "I mean… I'm a lot bigger than you." Ichigo frowned a little. It was true then. A dragon most likely, one that had become incredibly shy and childish, but beneath it all, he could tell it was grateful for his presence, because even though he'd been trying to kill it, it had followed him and not killed him when it could've.

"You burn our town because you're lonely?" he asked, having it all figured out.

"… Ah… Not exactly," the red-haired man said in reply, looking down in what seemed like shame. He bit his thumbnail. "I'm afraid they'll purge … ah… the mountainside… to kill me," he said slowly, face drawn in fear, like an open book as he looked up to Ichigo. "If I make them too scared, maybe they'll leave me alone," he said in distress, clenching his fists. That was a rather childish plan, probably built on the assumption that since he was too scared to go near them, they would feel the same way if he bullied them in return.

Ichigo gave a hollow laugh, thinking of the riot that had nearly occurred. The man looked up, face scrunched in concentration and confusion. "I think the opposite will happen," he scoffed, seeing the redhead flinch and bite his lip. Ichigo shrugged it off, changing the subject. It would be good to stay off the topic of why he'd been sent here and get him feeling more comfortable. "What's your name? Is that okay to ask?"

"Ah… ah-" He seemed to panic a little, clamming up, and Ichigo took it upon himself to introduce himself first.

"I'm Kurosaki Ichigo."

To Ichigo's surprise, he went still and looked at him in wonder, mouth agape, gums still a little red and tinged with blood. His facial markings were so fierce, but they didn't detract from the clear naiveté this guy had about him. Ichigo wondered if he knew that his face was doing that. Either way, he definitely hadn't spent any time around people in a _looong_ time.

More importantly, no one told their last name before their first name anymore, except for Ichigo. Knowing that this dragon had been around for the last half thousand years supposedly, being archaic certainly paid.

"Nn… Renji," he gasped out, head bowed slightly, without breaking his gaze. Ichigo smiled and they gave each other a short bow, acknowledging each other.

"Well, Renji," Ichigo paused when Renji made a noise and clapped a hand over his mouth, trembling just slightly. He ignored it. A man who hadn't associated with people in a century was sure to be a little socially jilted. "How long have you been out here?"

"Ah… the trees bloomed at least seventy times," Renji said hollowly, glowing eyes going cold and almost black, flickering lightly. "I didn't bother counting the first few blooms. I hadn't realized what I was." It was the most that the man had said in one sitting so far, and he seemed to have burnt out almost completely, the warm glow even going out of his skin.

At least seventy years… Ichigo hummed lightly. Maybe the dragon had been in sleep too for the first four hundred years of its guardianship, or maybe it meant it had only seen the trees bloom that many times. If the village had only had problems with it for the last century, of course it would've only seen the blooming trees then when it had come down from the mountain.

"You're still so young-looking. How old _are_ you?"

"I suppose I don't have an age anymore," Renji said, voice wrenched and slow with agony. "I'm in a stand still… I am utterly alone," he growled bitterly, "a child of fire, cursed to drag myself over the ground until the moon and sun trade places… like Satan… Isn't that horrible?… I'd sleep to pass the time, but in solitude, one can only sleep for so long…"

Ichigo had to pause at that, hair rising on his arms. There was a definite connection there to that sword-wielder and its enchanted sleep. Renji couldn't be the warrior because of the time period change… Hm… Maybe the man had been awoken a hundred years ago by an adversary and had lost the battle, releasing the dragon sword guardian.

"Are you the dragon from the legend, then?"

"Hn?" Renji asked, eyes dark and desolate, but slightly confused, "I don't understand what you mean."

"You've lived this long and still look so young. You can't just be a human with fire powers. You're the dragon, ne?"

"I heard the story too when I was young," Renji whispered, seeming to be becoming more at ease with the back and forth of conversation, and he hadn't jumped away at Ichigo's presence in a while. As long as Ichigo let him maintain some personal space, he seemed to be doing fine now. "The foolish warrior spurned a witch and was placed in eternal sleep, never able to do battle again. Over time, the sword grew thirsty and the curse spread over the whole mountain, maybe even this woods. I am in eternal sleep… at this moment, just in a different way. I won't age… ever again. I've become a monster… and… I burn everything I touch." Renji grit his teeth, digging his hands into the ground, meeting Ichigo's eyes before calming down slightly, anger making way for sadness.

Ichigo listened in sympathy, heart beginning to ache. Any moment now, an opening would come. Stab it in the heart, stab it right between the collarbones at the pocket in the throat, stab it in the gut… End this creature that was against nature in such a way.

"I had hoped," Renji choked, "when I saw you, that… that someone else understood what it's like to live with forever in front of you, but unable to reach it. I go through time without living, and I thought someone… _you_ were here with me finally. But no…" he said bitterly, eyes so black that they looked ghastly, like coals. "You are a man…" He smiled sadly, "How jealous that makes me. What I would do to have that back."

He flopped over, shoulder first, head rolling to the ground as he lay there in sadness, gazing at Ichigo. Ichigo's stare was cold, but inside he felt so much pity, such sympathy, yet not enough to spare the life.

Renji bit his lip, eyes wet and leaky as he stuck out a hand, snaking it along the ground towards Ichigo's leg. He extended his arm, glancing to Ichigo once or twice in nervousness, holding his breath before he brushed him with his knuckles once. Ichigo stayed still and silent, stunned that he hadn't been burned. Renji's mouth drew tight and his fingers searched gently, knuckles rubbing against him once, twice, and Ichigo swallowed, seeing the sheer _grief_ and the need to touch what he could never have. He knew that seeing someone like him, the picture of health and young adulthood would be Renji's downfall if he'd been living alone and immortal, and Ichigo allowed the touch, not seeing any harm in it.

He stayed still for a few moments, but then twitched slightly on accident. Renji was startled and burned Ichigo's leg with his fingers. "Ah!" Ichigo hissed, jolting back. Renji pulled his hand back so fast that it was as if _he_ was the one who'd been burned, looking at the small pink mark with absolute horror.

Renji began panting and scrambling back, stumbling to his feet to Ichigo's surprise. He hadn't seen the man stand up straight before, but now it was plain who was bigger and stronger. Ichigo got up and rubbed his leg, gathering his sword.

Renji held his hands up as if to tell him to stay back, but to his own horror, he could see his palms glowing hotter and hotter, red and then slowly making their way up to a brutal blistering white. He turned them around towards him, shaking them slightly, holding his fingers in front of his eyes and making a miserable panicked noise.

Ichigo's hand tightened on his sword hilt, but to tell the truth, as messed up as it was, he'd lost all intentions to kill Renji the moment Renji had hurt him, because it was so clear how horrified he was that he had, that Ichigo knew it would be an utter sin to harm this man. Renji hadn't meant to hurt him, and looked so guilty and upset that it was heartbreaking. Renji didn't want to hurt anyone. He hadn't burnt the town out of anger or lust for bloodshed, or want for mindless violence. Ichigo could see the young soul and an incredibly tired lonely conscience.

Renji wasn't a bad person, and Ichigo could see that.

Ichigo felt a bit of empathy for him. He knew what it was like to want help, to be drowning in the darkness and struggling for air. He knew what it was like to push everyone away even though he desperately wanted comfort. He knew what being alone was like, what facing up against yourself and not liking what you saw was like. Renji was in that dark place right now, Renji was there, sinking in the ocean at a hundred miles an hour and never hitting the bottom. Renji was a being of pure self-hatred.

Renji truly believe he was a monster and that no one loved him, not even the world that had created him.

Ichigo didn't see a ferocious beast. He saw a lost soul, afraid and alone, as excitable as a child who'd lost his mother in a marketplace or was being picked on by mean kids. He didn't mean to harm people. His self-control was just very fragile.

Ichigo could understand that. What gave him a flicker of confidence that there was hope for this man, was that Renji had said he burned everything he touched, and yet… he'd touched Ichigo so gently with the back of his hand. Ichigo had only been burnt because he'd scared him. Renji could keep in control if he wasn't spooked or put on the defense. He was like a wild animal, startled but still creeping back to beg for food. Renji only burned things when he was upset or nervous, and Ichigo didn't call that dangerous.

He called that a road-block.

Renji gasped continuously, hands clenched at his sides, body tensed. He still couldn't seem to get over the fact that he'd _burned_ a living thing, that he'd burned _Ichigo._ He'd lost it for just one second, but that was all it had taken for him to revert back to his base survival functions. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry," he got out, trying to turn and go, but Ichigo held up a hand after him.

"Wait!" Renji halted, eyes flicking to him warily, body lowered in a tense stance that was ready to snap and bolt at any moment.

The torture in those glowing eyes was monumental. What it must be like to live forever, having everyone you've ever known perish. Did Renji have dragon family? Human family? How long had it been since he'd seen another person that hadn't ran and screamed or tried to kill him? Renji had lived in solitude for so long that even speaking seemed to frighten him, and while that was an incredible weakness, Ichigo admired the flame power and the obvious fear he had of it. Renji understood the responsibility he carried and that his power destroyed living things, that he was dangerous. Renji hadn't become arrogant and purposefully destructive. He had lived out here and wandered alone for who knows how many years, body never changing, never aging, never sharing moments with friends or family. Could someone like that die, even if they chose?

It had to be an incredible loneliness. Ichigo had to wonder what it had felt like for Renji to see him with his bright hair and think for one wonderful moment that he'd found someone else like him, somebody who could fill the endless days and pass the time that they had none of. Then the crash of realization that all of it had been just a simple hope, a mistake, that his eyes were brown and not molten gold like his. The disappointment had to be tearing him apart.

Ichigo knew that there was nothing he could do for an immortal. Even if he offered friendship, companionship for the rest of his days, one day he would die and probably send Renji into an even deeper gloom. The world had wronged this man immensely, and there was nothing he could do to save him forever. However, he could still offer help in this moment, the present.

Ichigo took a step towards him, releasing the hilt of his sword and holding his arms out. Renji swallowed and took a step back, but stayed there, letting Ichigo close the distance. Ichigo put his hands on his upper arms and then embraced him, putting himself in a vulnerable position against Renji's bare chest, holding him, trying to push all the emotion and comfort he could into it.

' _I don't care about what you can do, I don't care about what you are now or what you were in the past. I don't care about what you are, but about who you want to be, because you're trying, and I can see that. I know how you feel, and I want to take away your sadness. I don't care what other people say, if they scream and run from you, because I will never run away. I don't know you yet, but I don't believe you're a monster. You're not alone, not anymore. You are not alone.'_

Ichigo hugged him, burying his cheek against his collarbone, feeling normal skin against his face. Renji was breathing hard, pulse pounding against Ichigo's skin, but Ichigo didn't draw back, holding him close and tight, trying to silently apologize for what the world had done to wrong him.

He felt the heat increase immensely, the temperature sky-rocketing, and he could hear flames crackling in his ears, the sheer searing heat of it all hurting his skin. He didn't sweat, the heat being dry enough that there was no moisture in the air anymore, and Ichigo cringed, gritting his teeth against the blaze as it kept getting hotter and hotter. Still, he held on, hissing when a spark popped and hit the skin below his closed eye.

"Ah!" he hissed, laughing a little bit, smelling his own hair begin to singe. He nuzzled closer against Renji's chest, not letting go, determined to show him that someone could care, that he wouldn't walk away just because of the danger, the heat. He could withstand it. He wouldn't let anyone be as utterly alone as this, because he had felt that way once. When his mother had died, he'd been lost in the darkness, and it had taken years for even a candle's flame of hope to spark within him again.

He wouldn't let anyone feel that way.

Ichigo was seriously beginning to cook now, groaning lowly and clenching his gut up in pain, skin unable to handle the sheer heat of it all, but he refused to break the tight lover's embrace, arms squeezing a little bit tighter where he held on around Renji's chest. To Ichigo's utter horror, it kept getting worse as Renji's heart rate increased, so hot that he couldn't bear it, but he wouldn't give up.

' _Idiot. I won't let you go.'_

And then, with a sputter, the heat dissipated, and Ichigo felt tentative fingers touch his back, still hot and searing, but cooling rapidly as the arms wrapped around him. Ichigo smiled in triumph, not opening his eyes, letting Renji lay his head on top of his and hold him back for a minute.

When Renji finally released him, Ichigo took a step back and wiped his forehead, finding that his skin had a small sheen of black dust on it, and when he ran a hand through his hair, singed bits ruffled out, leaving his hair slightly shorter than before. To his amazement, there was at least a yard's radius of grass around them that had died, withered and brown, waves of heat still escaping and waving in the air.

Renji was smiling softly at him, utterly relaxed and gazing into his eyes with the spirit of a puppy that had imprinted on you. His hair had gone a darker red, no longer glowing like lava or crackling like flames, his eyes were almost dark brown instead of glowing coals, and his skin seemed to have a bit more color to it.

Ichigo cracked a smile, enjoying the cooling breeze for a moment before he jokingly shoved Renji and ran off in the other direction, grinning back as he ran to make sure that Renji knew it was a game and not that he was afraid.

Renji watched him with an open mouth for a moment before giving a small shocked and breathy laugh, then grinning widely and chasing him excitedly. Ichigo laughed and would let him get close enough to swipe at the back of his shirt, and then would put on a burst of speed to get out of reach again, tearing through a grassy meadow and up a hillside, stopping suddenly at the gorgeous view of the clouds and the skyline. It had to be about three o' clock now.

Renji ran into him hard and knocked them down in the grass, sending them rolling fast down the hill and landing in a rough achy pile. Renji groaned and picked his head up, looking dazed, and Ichigo just gave a low laugh, poking him and telling him to watch where he was going, before tackling him and rolling him over further down the hill.

They played and they played, tussling and fooling around on the ground, and Ichigo knew he'd been right about Renji when he noticed how incredibly gentle he was being, even when they wrestled. He was especially careful to try not to touch Ichigo with an open palm, or any kind of force, being very mindful of every motion, not wanting to scare off his new friend.

Settling down and watching the clouds, Renji lay on his side, the side of his head pillowed on his arm, forearm bending over his crown. Ichigo was on his stomach, legs behind him, propping himself up on his elbow. He grinned when Renji told him how he'd used to love watching clouds and that he was so glad they'd met. Ichigo watched as Renji gave a yawn and a smile so utterly happy that it was just heart-rending.

"Truly," Renji said softly, raising a hand slowly and running it lightly down Ichigo's arm, letting it fall to the ground, the warmth only slightly more than normal human body heat, "I am glad I've met you… even for just this one day."

Ichigo leaned down towards Renji a few inches, who didn't move back in fear anymore around him, lax and in complete adoration of his presence. He just gave him a confused look, but lay still, enjoying the cool breeze as the clouds floated above him.

They listened to the wind ruffle through their hair and the grass around him. The sound of the wilderness rustling in the wind, thousands of trees waving around them on all sides of their private hill sent pleasant chills down his neck.

He gave Renji a kiss on the lips, chaste and sweet, then pressing his mouth against his softly. The grass around them died and turned dark brown, scorched to bits, the heat radius increasing by the second.

* * *

 _Where there is desire, there is gonna' be a flame.  
_ _Where there is a flame, someone's bound to get burnt._


	4. Chapter 4

_My thoughts will echo your name  
_ _until I see you again.  
_ _These are the words I held back  
as I was leaving too soon:  
_ _I was enchanted to meet you._

* * *

They walked for hours without stopping, and Yumichika had long since grown weary when the sun began to make its way down from the top of the sky. It had to be almost five o' clock, but there was a lot of day still left, which was what Ikkaku kept endlessly repeating.

"Madarame-san, please! Can't we take a rest? You look unwell," Yumichika called with concern to the man forging the wilderness in front of him.

"I tell you for the thousandth time, I am not hungry, I am not sleepy, and my muscles have not weakened. It is as if I barely closed my eyes for more than an hour."

"But that's not true, _is_ it?! It _hasn't_ been an hour! It's been twenty four, times the days of a year, times five hundred!" Yumichika practically shouted in exasperation. Knowing that Ikkaku wouldn't stop because of that, he changed his tone to one of distress. "My feet are sore, but I'd keep going! I just don't wish to travel in the night. Please, for my sake, let's make camp here before it gets dark."

Ikkaku paused at that, because until that point, Yumichika had been trying to convince him to turn back, but now he was accepting the importance of Ikkaku's mission. They could make camp. Yes, that wouldn't delay him much. He supposed that would be all right.

"Na," Ikkaku grunted, "As you wish." The look on Yumichika's face made Ikkaku's cheeks erupt in flames. "Oi, what's that look for?!"

Yumichika fumbled to say something, but just turned tail and began gathering dead branches. Ikkaku let it slide, looked for running water, and nabbed them a couple rabbits and a snake. When he came back, Yumichika had a fire going and the sky was just beginning to turn golden around the edges as the sun neared setting.

Yumichika couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he had to somehow 'tame' this man's heart, according to the legend. He'd thought that it was impossible and that he was wasting his breath, being unworthy himself to have woken Ikkaku in the first place, but it seemed like he had his own subtle influence over the warrior.

If he changed his speech pattern just a little and took the things Ikkaku held important into consideration, Ikkaku responded in a completely different way. He'd bent easily, submitted to his will. Maybe… Maybe there _was_ a chance, if Yumichika would just keep trying.

Oh, he couldn't stop thinking about that dumb true love kiss that he'd given. He didn't believe in true love. He thought it was completely fabricated and stupid to think that you could just waltz up to a person, make lovey eyes, and then never have any problems for the rest of your lives. That kind of deep passionate love takes hard work, it takes a good long fight, and even then, the two people had to be compatible to some degree beforehand.

It couldn't be a true love kiss that had awakened the man, but all the same, it hadn't been Yumichika's taming abilities that had awoken him either, so which was it?! He didn't believe in either, but he didn't see what else it could be!

"So…" Yumichika said slowly, trying to start a conversation since they hadn't really done much talking during their travels. They'd probably make it to the mountain by tomorrow if they took a good long rest. "How was your sleep?"

Ikkaku looked up at him like he was surprised that Yumichika was talking to him, ripping a limp arm off the rabbit he was holding when he forgot that he was trying to use precision. "Nn?" he acknowledged, and Yumichika just folded his hands and waited for a reply. Ikkaku shrugged, tearing the skin and fur off an area of the rabbit's back before throwing the useless paw in the fire. The he lifted its body to his mouth, taking a bite, crunching the bones between his teeth, fur and all. Blood gushed onto his face, and he didn't seem to like the taste, but he said nothing.

Rather than screeching at his horrible manners and the disgusting display, Yumichika pursed his lips and handed him a sharp stick, gesturing to the fire. He was sure this was some kind of test from Ikkaku to see how he'd react. To his surprise, Ikkaku grunted his assent and jammed the stick in the hollow of the animal's neck, twisting it and shoving until it came out through its belly so he could hold it over the flames.

He wiped his face with his forearm, blood smearing over his lips until he licked it away. Yumichika offered to hold the spit over the fire while Ikkaku prepared the other two animals, which Ikkaku conceded to do immediately. Yumichika liked this sort of harmony they had. If only they could get to know each other a little more. Ikkaku seemed very accepting of his presence as long as he didn't criticize him in the least.

"Did you have any dreams?" Yumichika pressed, smiling a little.

Ikkaku looked up to him, a little cowed that Yumichika really was eager to make him talk. He finally gave a grin and looked up at the golden sky as he popped open the snakes mouth and rammed a stick down its gullet, not stopping until the tail split on the other side. "Hn," he acknowledged. Yumichika noticed he used a lot of aizuchi when he talked, but not much when he listened, an extremely archaic and rude dialect. "I suppose I probably did."

"Do you remember any?"

"Ya'," he said shortly, and Yumichika looked at him for a moment, waiting for him to go on. Then he realized that he'd said 'iya', so he let it drop.

"It must've been a surprise to wake up and find out that so much time had passed," Yumichika went on. Ikkaku seemed to be getting used to him now, and was making lots of 'un' sounds in agreement.

"I suppose I was, but I think I knew that it had been a long time. Of _course_ it would take so long for a curse like that to wear off. Maybe she finally kicked it. Or maybe she thought I deserved another chance. Hah," Ikkaku laughed smugly.

Yumichika furrowed his brow, leaning an elbow on his hand, sitting on a pine-needle bed across from Ikkaku, who seemed to actually notice his upset.

"Oi, what's wrong with you, huh? It's a legend now, na? A cursed mountain, a sword of ultimate power – _be excited,_ " he demanded, nudging him once or twice, brows tensed. "This should be the greatest adventure of your life! You should feel lucky! _Rakki_ , na?"

Yumichika said nothing, because he _did_ feel lucky, just horribly sad that he knew how easily this was going to slip through his fingers. He couldn't change a man like this. Ikkaku didn't even realize that the sleep hadn't just worn off or something; he didn't realize that it wasn't to do with the witch.

Ikkaku held the other two animals over the fire, and Yumichika watched the little bunny's face roast and the snake turn golden brown.

Suddenly it seemed to occur to Ikkaku just _how_ he had woken up. "Naa… Wait then…" he said in thought, and it was clear to Yumichika that Ikkaku was a brute, but he was _not_ dull-witted in the least. He was perceptive, but uncaring, that was the problem – this time it seemed he had caught the scent and was following it.

Yumichika fidgeted lightly, hoping hand over fist that Ikkaku didn't remember a thing from when he'd been sleeping, or the kiss. He felt immensely guilty already for pressing his body against someone who had no idea about it, defenseless, even a warrior like this with corded strength packed into every inch of his body. It was just, he was so handsome, even more so now that Yumichika could see the way his muscles stretched and contorted as he walked and lounged on the ground. He hadn't been able to help it! He wouldn't do it again, he swore!

Yumichika looked up when Ikkaku narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Any moment now he'd put the pieces together and the disgust would come. He was sure of it. "You…" Ikkaku said lowly, but not in anger, just as if he was trying to work something out. " _You_ broke the spell, na? You must have - you were there when I awoke." Yumichika wondered why it had taken him this long to think back on, but then again, this man was very impulsive and single-minded when he was focused on something.

Yumichika swallowed and said nothing.

"How did you do it, ne?" Ikkaku asked, scootching closer to him, and then closer, leaning down a little to try to meet his eyes. Yumichika felt quite intimidated, moving back, avoiding his fierce gaze. It was too intense, even though it wasn't angry. "Are you a sorceress?" he questioned. Yumichika gave an exasperated put-upon laugh at that, turning towards him.

"I'm a man, a _man,_ see?" he said, flashing his chest, only mildly irritated in comparison to the insults he'd had to endure at the academy. Honestly though, in this day and age, telling the difference between a man and a woman was like black and white. Each gender was allowed to only wear certain types of clothing and keep their hair a certain way, and even though Yumichika's hair was a little long, it wasn't like he was wearing a _dress._

"Oh, yeah, of course, sorry," Ikkaku remedied, eyes lingering. "I knew that," he said, and it sounded as though he actually had known that, not just trying to cover his mistake. Yumichika had hoped Ikkaku would forget what he'd just asked, but he came back to it alarmingly quickly. Damn him and his crystal clear memory and his resilience against diversions. Ikkaku couldn't even be distracted by bare skin. What kind of man was this?

"Do you have magic, then?"

"No," Yumichika said shortly, as if saying that that was the end of the conversation, right there. Undeterred, Ikkaku scootched even closer and leaned around him, getting in his face to try to see his eyes.

"How did you do it, then? Tell me the cure."

Yumichika buttoned his lips.

Ikkaku waited, not backing down, staring him in the eyes, and Yumichika eventually broke the gaze, looking away. Still, Ikkaku didn't move, having leaned in and was giving him a steady serious look. Even when Yumichika turned away from him, he didn't move. "Will you stop?" Yumichika asked in exasperation, finally.

"You know what turned out to be the cure, then?" Ikkaku said flatly, not budging, which was absolutely infuriating. He really wasn't letting Yumichika dodge this question.

If Ikkaku didn't remember being kissed by him, then _good_ , because he wasn't going to tell. Yumichika didn't know if that had been the spell-breaker, but he wasn't going to bring this up.

"You won't speak, huh? So be it," Ikkaku finally conceded, looking away. Yumichika already felt an immense shift, seeing that Ikkaku had actually backed off, realizing that he was intimidating Yumichika too much. Along with that, there was this look on his face now that told Yumichika that Ikkaku knew that he knew something. Seeing that he'd gotten the wrong idea, Yumichika turned to him them, waving his hands wildly.

"No, I was just thinking… about what happened when I arrived there, and what it was that could've woken you. I don't know what the cure was, honest!" he said earnestly, lying through his teeth. "One moment I was there and I saw you, and then when I sat beside you, your eyes opened! I don't know what happened!"

"Hm, as you say, then," Ikkaku mumbled, as if that was the end of things – as if it were true simply because Yumichika said it was. Yumichika sat there dumbstruck that Ikkaku had accepted his word at face value as Ikkaku took the snake away from the fire and dug his teeth into the side of it, taking a gruesome bite. The crunch made Yumichika cringe and gulp, but he said nothing. Having lost his appetite, he handed Ikkaku the rabbit he'd been made to hold and watched the man tear it limb from limb, eating it practically whole.

"Musta' been luck, then," Ikkaku commented, chewing with his mouth closed for the most part, but still scarfing down the food like a wild beast.

"Can't you be more gentle?" Yumichika asked nonchalantly, eyebrows pinching the tiniest bit. Ikkaku paused, holding still and looking up to him, and Yumichika glanced away, knowing it was a strange request. "Never mind, I-"

"You got kids?"

Yumichika looked up in confusion at the strange change of subject. Pursing his lips and giving him a side glance, he slowly said, "Why do you ask that?"

"Ah, I just figured you did, na, when you said something like that. It's important that kids be taught to play gently." Yumichika was deeply confused. Why would a warrior of legend, notorious for his many battles and victories want children to not play like wild animals?

If Yumichika didn't know better, it was almost like… Well, when he'd first awoken, Ikkaku had been really focused on that sword, and he'd been really rough and mean, but when he'd seen Yumichika's fright, he'd tried to tone it back. Now, he was being almost friendly. He was proving that he still had morals that made sense and went against what you'd think would be held true by a brutal fighter. He was an entirely different person when that sword wasn't the center of his mind. Maybe Yumichika really was bringing out his soft side in his own subtle way.

"You've gotta' build strength and discipline until you've become a man. Train hard, but if you hurt any living thing before the day you reach twenty… you're a waste of blood," Ikkaku said flatly, bare feet planted in the dust. Yumichika was silent, taking that to heart. He'd never expected such a man to feel something like that so deeply.

Ikkaku let him get lost in thought before he took another bite of meat, talking with his mouth full to Yumichika's utter revulsion. "I don't got kids either… They'd be long dead anyway, if I had. Blast, five hundred years. I still can hardly believe it. What's so different about _you_ , huh? In five hundred years, there was no one but you to wake me. What's different about you?"

Yumichika looked down, trying not to hear the words, 'what's _special_ about you?'

"Maybe I was the first to find you," Yumichika said. "No one ever goes into the woods or near the mountain anymore. The sword's rage was supposed to have spread the curse."

"That's a load of-"

"It didn't look like the clearing had been disturbed in ages. I wasn't out searching for you, it just happened. Really, I… I never expected," Yumichika mumbled, looking down at his lap, "to find you. I always thought you and the sword would be on the mountain somewhere."

"You thought I was some fool napping in a cursed forest."

"That's what I thought," Yumichika said cautiously, seeing Ikkaku looking at him seriously. "But I saw the manner you were laying in, and I thought it must be you… the legendary warrior, I mean."

Ikkaku stared at him blankly for a moment, before cracking a grin a second later, laughing. His smile stretched to his ears, freaking Yumichika out a little as he tossed his head back and laughed harder. Wiping the corner of his eye, Yumichika saw that those marks were brands and not war paint, which would have smeared.

"Do people really call me so? Wai-wai!"

Yumichika sweat nervously, smiling a little. What a laugh this guy had.

"Nah, in any case, I'm glad you think so," Ikkaku said, leaning back, seeming pleased with himself as he continued eating in a grotesque manner. Yumichika tried not to let it bother him, focusing on Ikkaku's lingering smile. "Na, the food's gone," Ikkaku said, troubled when he scarfed the last of it down. "Didn't you want some? I didn't see you take a bite. Sorry, you've gotta' be quicker than that," Ikkaku said, seeming to feel bad that Yumichika hadn't gotten anything, but not that he'd eaten it.

"Hnnnn," Ikkaku scratched the back of his head and then opened his mouth. "Maybe I can…" He stared at his two fingers before going to stick them down his throat. Yumichika waved his hands rapidly in panic. Ikkaku looked up in mild confusion. "Nah? You're not hungry?"

"Iya, iya," Yumichika shook his head, smiling a little in disgust. "I'm fine with watching."

"You're not hungry?" Ikkaku repeated, seeming to be saying it more to himself that time in contemplation. "… Hnnnn? You're so skinny, so I thought… Well, more for me, I guess, if that's what you want," Ikkaku mumbled with a grin, picking around in the dirt. "Oi, look, I found a worm." He stuck it in Yumichika's face.

"That's nice."

"You want it?"

"No thank you."

Ikkaku grinned and then took a bite out of it, and Yumichika's stomach twisted when he heard the grit between Ikkaku's teeth. He turned sharply and held his gut, croaking when saliva filled his mouth.

He held back the urge to vomit, determined not to criticize this man. That was the test right? He had to change him somehow without being domineering. Even though it was disgusting, even though it was ugly, he couldn't be harsh. It was fine, it was fine really. Ikkaku wasn't doing it to irritate him; he was actually being pretty kind.

Yumichika just couldn't believe… that he'd _kissed_ that _mouth!_

When Yumichika wiped his face with his wrist and turned back, feeling slightly queasy still, to his surprise, Ikkaku spat it out right away, looking horrified, not at the taste, but at his reaction. He seemed to be really surprised at how revolted he'd gotten.

Yumichika was silent, holding his stomach and rocking slightly, pressing his lips together and looking away at the dying fire. It was nearly dark out. It needed some more wood.

"Hey," Ikkaku said roughly, reaching a hand out, knuckles brushing Yumichika's arm. "Hey, I'm sorry." He didn't sound like he knew what he was apologizing for, and it set Yumichika off. "Oi, you okay? You gonna' vomit? What, wouldn't you eat just anything too when you get hungry? You never ate a worm when you were young? It's easy, you just-"

Yumichika chopped him in the head. "De!"

"You eat it in one bite, get it?! _One_ bite!" he snapped, which didn't seem to be the reaction Ikkaku had expected at all. He sat there on his ass, holding his forehead, looking up at him in shock. "Otherwise," Yumichika stood above him, leaning down in his face, hands on his hips, "you get dirt in your teeth!" He pointed in his face and then sat down sharply with a huff. Ikkaku swept himself off and sat up on his haunches, leaning in his face with a grin.

"Dirt in my teeth, heh-heh! That's not what I thought you'd say."

"If you want to eat bugs, then I won't stop you. Although, I don't agree," Yumichika said with a weary smile. "I don't think I'd ever be so hungry as to eat worms. That's like a mouthful of dirt, isn't it?"

Ikkaku gave him a blank look, mouth open, and then cracked a grin again, eyes squinting from the force of it. "Hah! You're funny. I'd want my wife to be like you."

Yumichika's smile faded away.

Ikkaku sat back and picked around in the bushes again, chucking some branches in, and then lay on his side, shoulder brushing Yumichika's leg as he lay his head down with a _thunk_. Yumichika held his breath for a moment, still reeling from that plainly spoken sentiment… Wow.

It had probably been a true love kiss, but the one suffering the love was… _Damnit._

"You like stars?" Ikkaku asked, rolling away from the fire's heat, crawling up the grass on the cool hill. The sun had finally gone down.

"I do."

"You know the names?"

"Some."

"Tell me," Ikkaku said shortly, lying on his back with his arms behind his head, eyes closed.

Yumichika had never even dreamt that the warrior from the legend could be such an easy-going person once you got inside his walls. He was a hyper guy, perhaps, but now he was lying there so peacefully… He knew that the man was restless without his sword, but he wasn't unkind or even thoughtless. He just wasn't the type of person to take responsibility of power for the sake of the world rather than his own sake. Was that selfish, or was it self-preservation?

Truly, this wasn't a man who had no love left in him.

"Andromeda." Yumichika pointed, but Ikkaku didn't open his eyes. Yumichika got up and nudged him with his foot. "Right there," Yumichika urged after a moment of silence.

"I'm listening," Ikkaku acknowledged.

"Right there, look," Yumichika said, nudging him again. Ikkaku cracked an eye open and glanced at Yumichika's finger, pointing at the sky.

"How could I ever tell exactly where you're pointing?" Yumichika stomped on his face. "Akh! What?!"

"You shouldn't have asked, then!"

"I said 'tell me', not 'show me!'" Ikkaku shouted, making a fist and brandishing it, but not even sitting up to make it a real threat. He didn't even insult him, cheek bruised and dirty from the bottom of Yumichika's boot.

Yumichika growled, irritated, trying to provoke more of a reaction. What an idiot this guy was! However, he had to admit that he was very intrigued by the fact that Ikkaku wouldn't even hit him now, after he'd kicked him in the face. Honestly though, what an inconsiderate rat, saying something like that. "Hage!" Yumichika glared down at him, suddenly noticing how quiet it had gotten.

"What did you just call me?" Ikkaku asked, deadly serious, having sat bolt upright, and immediately Yumichika knew he'd hit a nerve. Yumichika got in his face, growling, making a ghastly expression, wondering how far he could push his luck.

"Haaaaaa-ge!" he lilted, pulling his lower eyelids down, watching the moonlight glint menacingly off of Madarame's bald head.

The look on Ikkaku's face was perfectly described with the phrase, ' _that tears it.'_ "Rah!" Ikkaku tackled him and put him in a headlock, grinding his face in the dirt, but not enough to really hurt. "I dare you to say that again!"

"Hage-hage-hage!"

"AAAAAH!" Ikkaku sat on his back and twisted his arm around, still not pushing him down, just trying to make him give. " _Nani-koraaa!?_ Don't call me that! _Nobody gets to call me that!_ " Deciding that he'd teased him enough, Yumichika turned his head to the side, looking up at him with one eye.

"Madarame," Yumichika said quietly, not struggling. "Better?"

"Hngg," Ikkaku grunted in acknowledgement, getting off him and sitting next to him. Yumichika brushed his dirty cheek and crossed his arms, lying on his back as the skies lit up, the moon still rising. "Yeah, that's better… I still tell you, that's not my given name."

"You want me to call you by your first name?"

"Nn." Ikkaku was quiet for a while, looking away and scratching his neck. "Aa," he agreed. "As long as there's no more 'maru-hage' from your mouth, wakatta?… Uh… Say, what's your name?" he asked, it suddenly coming to him that he'd never found out.

"Yumichika Ayasegawa."

"If you ever call me 'hage' again, Ayase-"

"Yumichika is my given name," Yumichika interrupted when he realized Ikkaku had flipped things around, because this guy definitely wasn't the polite type to avoid using first names.

"Nn-nn-nn," Ikkaku acknowledged, bobbing his head and slapping his shoulder heartily. "Where I come from, 'Chika' is a given name for a girl. Chika, Chikashi, Chikako, Machika," he said, counting on his fingers, looking up to Yumichika curiously. "Names for a woman."

"Well, it's my name, so it's a man's name," Yumichika insisted, a nerve pinching in his forehead.

"I don't know…"

"I say it's a man's name."

"Hnnnn," Ikkaku mused uncertainly, giving him a side-long glance, touching his hair for a minute until Yumichika swatted him back. "Okashii namae, naaa…"

 _"Chikara,"_ Yumichika said stubbornly, even though that made no sense, since the words just sounded the same.

"That's not what the kanji is, though, is it."

Irked, Yumichika's brow twitched as he gave a sly grin. "Anyway, what kind of shape has one corner? Not even a straight line has only one corner. You're the one with the funny name."

"Hah," Ikkaku laughed, shoving him a little, but smiling genuinely. "Maa, I think I do want you to call me that instead. That's even better than praising my fighting skills… Legendary warrior, I still can't get over that," he said with a long sigh, leaning back on his elbows and gazing at the sky. "Tell me."

"Ikkaku," Yumichika said simply. Ikkaku smiled and closed his eyes.

They lay there like that for a long time, getting a little closer together when a cool wind blew past. Yumichika wondered if this was the same sky that had passed over Ikkaku every night for a half thousand years. If nothing in that long had been able to change this man's heart, what hope did he have?

He was starting to hope that Ikkaku might like him… but it was only that, a hope. There was one thing that he would never be better than, and he didn't understand it. Ikkaku had been pretty nice to him once he'd gotten used to him – Yumichika just didn't get how his mood could change so quickly from deadly to dorky.

"Ikkaku, why do you want this sword?" Yumichika asked. Ikkaku didn't move, arms behind his head. "Do you feel that your mind is safe? You know the curse, right? The sword-"

"-Infects their owner's minds and changes their judgement? Yes, I know," Ikkaku said darkly. "I know well. But it also gives them great power, and I'd rather be given power recklessly than go on as I had. I'd rather die than suffer such boredom again."

' _Ehhhh?'_ Yumichika sweat-dropped. ' _He was such a violent person due to_ boredom? _'_ Just the idea of such a troublesome person ticked Yumichika off.

"Hhhhaaa," Ikkaku sighed, going on, "There's supposed to be a dragon guardian or something, too. I heard that part when I was searching for the sword in the first place. The men who wielded it without killing the previous owner in battle themselves died because of that dragon. When I go to retrieve it, it'll probably come out to face me… and when I do, you must not help me. That's the rule."

Yumichika stared back into his eyes for a moment, hearing clearly that he was allowed to accompany Ikkaku, but…

"If you stand in the way of my goal, I will show no mercy. You will not help me, even in my moment of death," he said sharply, having become serious and harsh once again, not even asking if he agreed. Yumichika could feel that frenzied _need_ to have that sword back in Ikkaku's voice, the moderately kind calm man seeming to have fled completely.

"But why do you have to go get it in the first place?" Yumichika begged to know, "Please tell me. I don't understand you, Ikkaku. I'm trying hard, but… even after five hundred years, it still…? You…"

"If I were to give up my sword and never fight again when I could be the strongest… it'd be just like dying," Ikkaku said, still not looking at him, face placid and blank, then clenching slightly, eyelid twitching as he went on with relish, "The key to ultimate power… Not just because I want that power, but because everyone else will know it and they'll seek me out. Searching for opponents won't be hard. They'll come to me, and I'll become a little bit better after each victory. I do this to be the best in the world."

"But, when you're the best, then who will you fight?"

Ikkaku was quiet for a long time. Not even the crickets were out tonight, leaving them in silence.

"The point is, I'm not the best yet. So I go."

' _He hasn't thought this through!'_ Yumichika sat up, eyebrows pushing together in despair. "But that makes no _sense_ , do you see? You're only setting yourself up to become bored _again_ , and then what will you do?" Yumichika pleaded, careful not to mention the fact that Ikkaku may die before reaching his goal.

"Do you think I haven't tempered my resolve? I knew what I was undertaking," Ikkaku said calmly. Yumichika couldn't help it then, stating the obvious.

"You could _die!_ "

Ikkaku silenced him with a wave of his hand, finally looking at him, which shut him up real fast. "Hush. You ask my reason, and now I tell you. That's why I have to go."

Yumichika met his eyes, seeing that he wasn't angry, just telling him the deepest belief of his heart, trying to make him understand just a little bit. Yumichika just couldn't, though. He didn't get _why_ exactly, but he knew that it was important to Ikkaku, _very_ important, and he supposed that was enough. God, but it hurt.

Ikkaku's voice sounded weak and strained all of a sudden as his eyes drifted back to the sky. "I feel like I have lost an arm. I cannot fight without it. No other will do. Nothing matters except that I have that sword. Even on my dying breath, I will search for it. I have to get that sword back."

Yumichika swallowed. He knew that Ikkaku meant it and that nothing and no one would get in the way of that. He had no chance. The truth was… passion like that… Yumichika didn't _want_ to change it. He just wished Ikkaku cared that much for him too, and that was what hurt.

"I understand…" He was quiet for a long time, and Ikkaku didn't move to break the silence either. If it was true love… then the ultimate love was acceptance, right?… Even if it hurt more than anything…

"When you become the best in the world, I should be proud." When, not if.

"Good."

* * *

When Ichigo felt his lips start to burn, he pulled back, wind cooling his face. To his surprise, the tips of Renji's hair had turned a bright orange and were flickering slightly. Renji swallowed hard, almost pressed flat against the ground now, eyes wide and glowing as he stared at Ichigo, who just gazed back in mild confusion.

"Why do you do this?!" Renji asked, getting hotter and hotter when Ichigo didn't give him some personal space.

The sheer heat hurt Ichigo's skin, but he didn't move back, turning his face from side to side to try to bear with one half and then the other. Eventually he put a hand up to block the blazing heat.

"Why did you do that to me?" Renji asked again, voice almost a wail.

"I think I fell in love with you," Ichigo said calmly, eyes peeking up over his forearm as he tried to shield his face from another heat blast, which kept steadily rising and rising. "Ah," Ichigo hissed, flinching back, but not moving from where he was sitting.

"Not someone like me," Renji said lowly, shaking his head wildly. "No, you go!" he demanded, pointing away from them. "Don't stay near me! See what I do?"

Ichigo grit his teeth and bowed his head, hiding his face from the withering dryness. He felt like he was being burned alive, even though he hadn't even been touched by the flames yet.

Renji shook his head in woe, only becoming more distressed when Ichigo tried to suffer through his volatile tantrum. Ichigo was hissing wildly now, taking short quick breaths and covering his face with his hands, pulling his shirt up to cover his cheeks and nose. Renji tried to back away, unable to control himself now, but Ichigo crawled after him. "Iya! Stay there!" Renji begged, scrambling away, but Ichigo just came right back.

Had Ichigo really fallen in love with him? He hadn't thought that true love thing could happen between two men, but it wasn't like Renji didn't feel it too. He'd just thought he was yearning for the first person he'd seen in such a long time and had left it there.

But if he really thought about it, he didn't want to be selfish. He didn't want Ichigo to follow him for the rest of his days when he could be living his human life. Ichigo should have a real family. Ichigo could have a wife that he could age with, and they could have children together. Renji couldn't. In the end, Ichigo would become resentful of him for keeping that part of life away from him.

On top of that, he was dangerous. See what he could do just by getting a little startled? Ichigo had barely kissed him without warning, and look what it could do to him! One day Renji could get out of control and burn Ichigo alive. There was no going back from that. Ichigo could die, and Renji couldn't. Ichigo could age, and Renji couldn't. Ichigo would have to go through the rest of his limited life with horrible burn marks and scars, just from trying to fix an emotionally unstable immortal.

Even if Ichigo was willing to forsake all that, his human life, the rest of his days and what he could've spent them doing instead, the danger, his flawless skin, Renji… Renji didn't want to watch Ichigo die a little each day. The years went by so fast for him, monotonous and never ending, but the true passing of time would be proven as he saw Ichigo's face grow older and older, and eventually rot. Renji couldn't stand the change. He couldn't bear it.

If they were friends, if they spent their lives together as partners, someday, Renji would be alone again.

"You can't love me," Renji said, voice cracking, already begging Ichigo not to do this to him, not to force him to make this decision.

"It's too late," Ichigo said with a smile, ignoring his distress as he kept crawling towards him through the flames, putting a hand on Renji's chest. Renji bit his lip as smoke suddenly hissed from his mouth, waves of hot fog hitting Ichigo in the face and giving his pink skin a layer of soot.

"No one else will do," Ichigo insisted.

Renji could hear the ground starting to sizzle as a million bad possibilities flushed his mind. Ichigo began keening in pain, groaning higher and higher and flinching back, but he still didn't leave.

"I won't let you be alone! Maybe someday I'll die, but that day hasn't come yet!" Ichigo shouted in determination, crying in pain when he yanked his shirt down from his face and pounced on Renji, open-flame and all, and kissed him again.

Immediately, there was a rush of smoke as Renji cooled off, arms rising around Ichigo's back and holding him there.

Ichigo kissed his lower lip and then his nose, scraping hardened gold off his cheek when he got teary-eyed. Renji's hot bare chest pressed against his body, and he brought his knees up and wrapped his legs around Ichigo's waist, arms tightening as he clung to him. "If you say that, I won't want to let you go," Renji said, choked up, still hot from anxiety. Ichigo gave a laugh onto his mouth, sinking into a hum as he kissed him once more. Renji finally responded, a hand cautiously coming to the back of Ichigo's neck and head, rubbing gently as he tilted his chin up and kissed back uncertainly.

"I won't abandon you. I might not always be around, but I will not abandon you," Ichigo promised, his hands sliding to Renji's ash-smeared cheeks. Renji made a small noise, eyes slipping closed, heat escaping his body in waves as he cooled down immensely. Lethargic and lax now, he ran a clumsy hand over Ichigo's face, the skin on his palm feeling no different from that of normal body temperature.

Letting Renji keep holding him but pulling back slightly, Ichigo was glad to get some fresh air, letting it soothe his aching tingling face. The sun would set in a few hours, and Ichigo wasn't ready to end this moment yet. Did Renji watch the stars at night, he wondered?

He wondered what had happened when Renji had cooled down. He looked frighteningly docile now, his hair having gone a darker red, some of the black markings on his skin having lightened slightly. It became clear that they were tattoos, and that the rest was just soot, which stayed dark.

Renji's legs tightened around him, pulling him in slightly as he looked in Renji's eyes, which were the deepest reddest brown he'd ever seen. "You make me feel human again," Renji rasped, the wilderness seeming to go quiet with those words. Ichigo stared for a moment and then smiled.

Renji propped himself up on one elbow to try to pull Ichigo back down closer to him, and Ichigo obliged, letting Renji bury his face in his neck and rest.

Ichigo was warm. Nothing ever felt warm to Renji anymore, but Ichigo did. He'd never thought… He'd never thought he could be so damn happy ever again, or so afraid. If he were to admit what he felt now, and he had, it would hurt even more when it ended, which it would. But for now… Yes, he'd let Ichigo continue his little mortal delusion of living for the moment. He could just enjoy right now.

He tightened his arms slightly, nose brushing against Ichigo's neck and ear, then his face as he nuzzled him firmly. Ichigo made a noise in response, laughing once.

"Look at you," he said in wonder, and Renji had to frown at that, not knowing what he meant. Ichigo pulled back slightly, rolling to the side, letting Renji hold onto him a little still.

He looked at Ichigo's pink sweaty face and his fiery hair, the colors clashing badly, but his heart, oh his heart ached with love. He'd thought about it – he'd been bound to after spending time alone for a century – He'd thought about having a string of lovers, maybe. Cherishing each one while they lived and watching them go, getting over it and moving on, falling in love again, but… this boy… there would never be another.

There was nothing quite like a first love.

Ichigo gave a laugh and picked up a piece of Renji's hair, tickling Renji's nose with it, causing him to sneeze ash. That made Ichigo bust out laughing. Renji frowned mildly; usually he set the grass on fire when he did that.

He wrinkled his nose, wiping it, just succeeding in rubbing a black mark there. He tried to look at it, wiping it again, which just made Ichigo laugh even harder. He leaned down and pecked Renji's cheek and then shoved his face when he started blushing.

Renji had gotten ash and soot smeared all over the both of them, and it was making Ichigo's throat itch a little. So, standing up, receiving a devastated and betrayed look from Renji at the loss of his cuddle buddy, he beckoned him to follow.

"C'mon, let's go do somethin'," he said with a grin, and Renji got up and stumbled after him, footsteps heavy as he clomped down the hill. Renji kept trying to grab his hand and missing, making a low dissatisfied noise each time. Ichigo eventually had pity on him and took his hand, which seemed to appease Renji – even though it wasn't as if they could lose each other that easy out in the damn woods.

By then, Ichigo's face had cooled down a bit, although it was still very tender, mild burns on the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. He didn't mind; he just needed to put a little water on it. He passed the time chatting randomly, to which Renji replied with a hum at each lull in his speech to show that he was listening.

No, he didn't think Renji was such a bad guy. He just needed someone to bring him back to the world of the living in increments. He needed a gentle hand and someone who could keep every single promise they made, someone who did exactly what they said and didn't break his trust in even the smallest way.

He was just like a big clueless lumbering child who broke things without meaning to. If someone would just show him compassion and make an effort to keep him from becoming even more estranged… No, he wouldn't be so bad if Ichigo just kept an eye on him. That was another way to 'kill' the beast, right? He wouldn't be forsaking the soul he'd sworn on to everyone in the village.

Ichigo kept thinking back to that legend. It _was_ a legend, after all. Maybe that whole story had been warped over time. Someone to 'tame' the warrior's heart, huh? A dragon guardian?

Maybe the two had split over time. Maybe there had only ever been this one man… and he just needed somebody to bring him back to humanity, to tame his wild side and awaken him from the 'sleep' he'd been in for so long… Renji _must_ be the man they had been talking about.

And Ichigo… Ichigo was that worthy person who could change him, who could reach out and help. How could he turn away from that?

"Hora, yo," Ichigo said, letting go of Renji's hand and putting his hands on his hips as he stood in front of a river. "I'm all covered in soot, and you're filthy. Let's go for a swim," he offered, shucking his shirt off in one motion and hanging it over a tree branch, then pulling his boots off and rolling his pant sleeves up above his knees. Renji stood back and stared out vacantly at the river as if he'd come here before, standing forever at an impasse.

Ichigo gave him a glance and then got in the water, wading out into the middle. It was probably only twenty feet wide, but it got deep enough for him to sink to his neck out in the middle. The current wasn't unbearably fast, and the cool water was the perfect soother as he scrubbed his hands and neck clean of soot.

Renji was looking at him now, walking back and forth in the reeds at the steep riverbank, nervously making noise and reaching his hand out, trying to touch him without getting in the water. Of course, Ichigo was too far away by a long shot.

"C'mon, get in," Ichigo said, seeing that Renji wanted to follow him badly, but was chicken or something. Would water hurt him? No, that couldn't be.

Renji was overthinking it now and getting worked up as Ichigo swam around and blew bubbles in the water. When Ichigo went to get out on the other side, Renji panicked. "Come back!" he finally cried, swiping for him and holding onto a tree at the riverbank to keep from falling in.

"Why don't you get in?" Ichigo asked in confusion, crawling out of the water on the opposite bank, shaking off.

"No, wait!" Renji called, holding his hand out. Ichigo nodded, getting back in, watching Renji pace wildly.

"Are you coming or not?"

Renji gave a nervous moan and sat on the grassy bank, cautiously lowering one foot down the steep edge, toe touching the surface. His eyes glowed in anxiety and when his toe dipped in the water, steam rose with a sharp hiss, making Renji pull his foot back. He worried that he might boil the river and kill the fish if he got in. Oh, why couldn't Ichigo just come back to him?! What if he got out over there and ran away? Renji couldn't follow him!

"C'mon, you can do it," Ichigo encouraged, floating on his back now and watching Renji stress out more and more. Renji growled in determination and dunked his whole foot in the water, and Ichigo watched as ripples spread, feeling a temperature change and seeing steam fog up Renji's surroundings.

Ichigo stood up, feet grounded in the sand on the bottom of the creek, holding his arms out to Renji, as if to say he just had to make it over here to be with him again. Renji swallowed and calmed down, eyes going dark brown again as he put his legs in the water, smiling when the steam dissipated.

Ichigo grinned and held his arms open as Renji waded over to him, watching black silt swirling around him as the soot washed off his dirty body and flowed away.

Renji finally grabbed his forearm, making the last few steps through the water over to Ichigo, shoulder-deep next to him. "See? Not so hard."

"Not so hard," Renji repeated, gazing into Ichigo's eyes, a million miles away. Ichigo smiled and pecked him on the nose, jetting away after he splashed him in the face.

Renji sputtered and wiped his eyes in confusion, seeing black streaming down his hands and arms into the water, all of it going away. He shook slightly, in sensory overload as the cool water caressed his skin like a thousand kisses. The feeling itself was enough to…

He gave a long exhale. To think, he had stood at that riverbank for so long before, over and over, every day, every year, every decade, waiting to jump and die. He had tried to kill himself here, and now… he had survived. He'd finally done it. He'd found the courage to change something, to finally jump and grab, to finally say his name out loud. There were new memories… ones that he'd never thought he could have. He didn't have to be afraid of change.

Even eternally young, he could start over new.

He felt clean now, and his skin was almost the same shade as Ichigo's, now that it wasn't covered by ash. He waded out to a more shallow area, rubbing his chest with water to get rid of the soot and tar that had really stuck to his stomach and upper arms. Ichigo watched from a distance, nose and mouth below the water.

Swimming over to him through the lilypads, only his eyes showing, Renji looked down to him for a moment with a grin as he scrubbed. Ichigo stuck out a finger and poked a marking on his abdomen, rubbing once and then harder when it didn't fade with the water like the soot did.

"What are these?" he asked, face poking out of the river. Even when his hair was wet and dark, it still stuck straight up.

Renji shrugged, looking off. "They appeared when it first happened," he said vaguely. Ichigo hummed in acknowledgement, taking Renji's larger hands and pulling him back to the deep water.

Renji's wet hair swirled around them, tickling Ichigo's shoulders. Ichigo floated in the water, legs wrapping around Renji's waist and his arms around his shoulders as he ran his fingers through his matted tangle hair. Lilypads bumped around their backs – those white flowers had always been his mom's favorite.

Renji planted his legs firmly on the ground against the current, hands holding Ichigo under his thighs as Ichigo came in for a searing kiss, bare arms wrapping tightly around him and his bright red hair. Renji made a soft rumbling noise, eyes closing as Ichigo worked the tie out of his hair and brought the rest down, trying to separate it and slick it back.

Renji peeked out with one eye and then gave a peaceful sigh as Ichigo's wet hands slid over his face, washing away soot from his cheeks and trying to get his stiff unwashed hair back into manageable order. Renji disliked the markings on his face the most, and he knew they were there because of how long he'd stared at the river's glassy surface over the years. That's why he left some of his bangs out of his hair to cover up his forehead, but Ichigo kept pushing them back, tracing his finger over them.

That alone made Renji groan deeply, soothed to the bottom of his soul when Ichigo pressed a kiss there, running his thumb along his eyebrow. Water lapped about their shoulders, and Ichigo let Renji hold him aloft there, slicking his hair back away from his face. Renji held Ichigo with one arm then, firmly keeping him in place as he brought his other wet hand up to Ichigo's head.

Water dribbled into Ichigo's eyes on accident as Renji took a pinch of his orange hair, spiking it up on top. Ichigo pursed his lips, but Renji just continued doing this all over his head. Ichigo eventually squeezed both of Renji's cheeks and pulled, telling him to stop it before it dried like that.

He raked Renji's hair back with one hand, getting every strand. To his surprise, Renji's eyes flicked down as he blushed slightly and mumbled lowly, "Why do you keep doing that?"

"I can see your face better this way," Ichigo said with a smile, kissing him on his unresponsive lips. Renji hummed a little.

"Do I look that human to you?" he wondered, "Naruhodo, neeee," he mumbled in deep thought. Ichigo had to suspect that he really was a dragon who'd turned into a man rather than the other way around, which was probably more likely.

Helping each other climb the slippery bank and dry off, Ichigo shivered slightly in the cool air. It had to be about dinner time, but he didn't feel hungry enough to go home. Renji linked a finger through his. "Ne', follow me," he said uncertainly, as if he wasn't sure whether Ichigo really would follow if he led.

Ichigo nodded. "It better not be to anyplace dumb."

Renji halted, pausing and looking at Ichigo seriously. "I don't think it's dumb." Ichigo shrugged and followed Renji, who turned every few seconds to make sure he was still there, which was stupid, because they were holding hands.

A sweet fragrant scent began to wrap through his lungs, pulling him forward, and when the first white petal hit him, he accidentally sucked it in through his mouth, coughing hard. Renji turned to him hopefully, wondering if he liked where they'd ended up. It was an apple orchard in full bloom, gently shaded and covered in sparse petals because of the light wind.

"Stay… with me," Renji said lowly, hands reaching out hesitantly to Ichigo's, cupping around them, hot and damp. When Ichigo didn't immediately pull away, Renji latched on fiercely, afraid to let go. "Please stay."

Ichigo didn't say anything, letting Renji slowly approach him and pull him into an embrace. "You stay," he said softly, petting his back and holding him as tightly as he dared.

"You come here a lot?" He could feel Renji nod against his shoulder. "This is where you live?" Another nod. "Na, then let's go check it out." Holding his hand, Ichigo walked on, careful not to inhale too heavily around the falling flowers. It was surprising that Renji liked a place like this. Not a single thing was burnt.

Renji gave a nervous whine, seeming to want to turn back, but Ichigo went on, forcing Renji to follow behind. As they came to the top of a hill, a large expanse below them, Ichigo gasped, shock causing him to go still. Renji looked at his feet, biting his lip.

The wilderness was absolutely ravaged. Nothing… there was _nothing_ green. Everything was destroyed. The ground was soft ash, and charred logs littered the ground, stumps scattered here and there. Nothing was still burning; it had happened some time ago. Ichigo swallowed hard, walking through slowly, Renji lingering behind in uncertainty.

' _What… what did this? Why would he…?'_

Ichigo turned back, looking at him and then all around him. Renji was a danger, truly he was, but Ichigo had sensed a change in him already. He just looked so _ashamed_ …

Renji finally shuffled after him, head down as they passed through the glen that had been burnt to the ground. Leaving the ash plain behind wordlessly and finding a beautiful meadow not far away, Ichigo gave a peaceful sigh, deciding not to worry about it. He didn't think Renji would do it again. He had let go of the tense atmosphere, but Renji brooded, picking a flower and handing it to Ichigo.

When he reached for it, it burst into flames, the petals flickering individually like candle-light. There was a horrible desolate beauty in it. Ichigo looked to Renji's dark expression and back to the burning flower cupped in his hands, and held his fingers out, trying to take it.

The moment he took it and Renji let go, it turned to ash and fell apart, black and dead, ground into dust. Ichigo looked up to Renji's face again, seeing him looking at the ground.

"Do you see what I do? I destroy beautiful things… That's why you must go. But…" Renji put a hand to his brow, covering his eyes, but Ichigo could see him gritting his teeth, "But I can't bear for you to leave, either!… I… This is why you have to know! You have to see what I did, because I couldn't stand it if you decided to stay but then changed your mind when you realized what I am! I can't stand change, Ichigo, I can't stand it! So please… decide for me…"

"Renji…" Ichigo began with a sigh, seeing Renji's expression fall even more as he heard the words he dreaded. Ichigo's departure was imminent and inevitable. He knew that, but was it wrong to hope for just a little longer?

"I hope you don't really believe that, about destroying beautiful things," Ichigo said, glaring at him. Renji shrunk back slightly. "You have a choice. I heard somewhere long ago that monsters are self-made," he said roughly, and maybe it was a little harsh. Renji's expression was blank then, gaze overshooting Ichigo's face.

"Look, you can touch me. See?" Ichigo said, holding their palms together. Renji's fingers twitched slightly, before interlacing between Ichigo's, leaving them in a weird high-five fist combination as Ichigo left his own fingers open.

"I'm not even hurt," Ichigo growled, "Look." He pulled back, showing Renji his unscathed palm. "You don't have to do this. You could be a demon if you wanted. You could kill me, but you don't. "

Renji croaked at him then, "It's not that simple. It's not a matter of wanting to keep you safe or not. If I were to lose control, even once, it would be over for you. The way I am… because of what I did… I can't ever-" He brought a hand to his forehead. "I don't have any self-control because of that day… I can't trust myself because of that."

"There comes a time when you have to stop blaming the past for the way you are right now," Ichigo said. "I had to do it too. I was in a serious slump when I lost someone important," Renji's eyes flicked to his sharply, as if he understood the feeling completely, "and I thought I'd never get over it. It took years. When I realized why it still hurt after so long… even though I had people around me who cared about me and loved me… It wasn't her death that was keeping me down anymore, do you see? It was _me_ doing it… Even if it hurts, the past needs to go someday."

Renji swallowed hard, glaring at him, hulking over him, but Ichigo didn't back away. "Maybe for you, but if _I_ throw away the past, I have nothing," he gritted out, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Don't you understand that, you foolish-" Renji growled lowly once again, and Ichigo took a wary step back as he felt the temperature waver and then go back down. "I can never have a future. Do you see that? I am stuck here, forever. _Forever._ Even when the earth dies, when it hits the sun and burns up, I will still remain. I will never change, long after you've gone. My body doesn't change, my voice, my hair, it's all the same. I can't lose muscle mass even if I don't move for a year. I don't have to eat, even though I'm hungry. My nails don't even grow. I don't have to do _anything_ to survive. I can stop breathing, but my heart keeps going. I might as well not be here if I'm going to just exist without having to do anything. I… Ichigo, living forever isn't living at all."

"Then live with me. In this moment," Ichigo said, making Renji half-cry with upset, because it wasn't that easy for him. That was a mortal thing that he just couldn't do. Ichigo shook his head, silencing him. "If you can't change, then don't. I can take it. I won't run even if you burn me alive."

"That's what upsets me," Renji growled. "I don't want you to run, but if you don't… I'll be robbing you of everything that was robbed of me… Even if I never hurt you, that would still make me a monster… taking everything away, like that."

"I don't care," Ichigo said, wiping the flower ash from his hands.

"Of course…" Renji said darkly. "How could you?… You can't see beyond this moment, because…"

"Because I don't know what it's like to live forever," Ichigo finished. "I know. I don't think I can change anything, but maybe I can bring you some solace… Besides, I found you for a reason, and…"

Renji looked up at him as Ichigo slid his hands into both of his. Even if Ichigo was offering what he thought was, Renji knew that human life seemed long in the eyes of a mortal, but it really wasn't. Ichigo may change his mind. He may find peace elsewhere, and even if he didn't, they could never be lovers. Renji didn't know what would happen, what that might do to either of them.

But oh, it was tempting.

He brushed the back of his hand down Ichigo's cheek, hair getting in his eyes. "The only way to deal with a monster, is to kill it," he said firmly. "I bet your parents taught you to check beneath the bed and everything. How could you sleep with me around… with my head still attached to my neck? You came to kill me, remember?"

Ichigo hooked his ankle behind Renji's and tripped them hard down into the grass, clover flowers all around them. "Love not war," Ichigo said simply, leaning in and kissing him hard, rolling off just as Renji began to respond. "Whatever you do, you won't scare me away," Ichigo swore, grabbing Renji's wrist and flopping onto his back, pulling Renji over him.

"Lie with me," he demanded, raising a hand to Renji's cheek, who snapped back in alarm.

"Ichigo," he began, but was cut off.

"Join with me… Then even when I die one day… you'll never be alone again. Let that be the memory that lasts you until the sun and moon trade places," Ichigo whispered, smiling cheekily. Renji's mind quieted when he heard Ichigo repeat those words that he'd said earlier on in despair.

He shook, an arm holding him up on either side of Ichigo's face. The ground around them was cracking and the grass was being seared. He could smell weeds burning, but Ichigo wouldn't move away from where he lay beneath him. Renji continued to look down at him, growing more and more distressed as he thought of what Ichigo was giving up for him.

Before he knew it, his head was aflame, hair crackling around his ears. Ichigo looked unintimidated, staring him right in his glowing eyes, refusing to be bullied. A flake of burning ash floated down and nearly landed on Ichigo's cheek, but was waved away quickly by Renji.

"I… How could I," Renji said vehemently.

He was afraid. Not only could he lose control of himself in passion and burn Ichigo alive, but he was worried about what this might mean. If he and Ichigo were partners, what would become of the rest of Ichigo's life? Surely he had family, friends, a girl who loved him? Maybe Ichigo was married. Maybe he already had children. He couldn't rob Ichigo of all that.

Besides barbecuing him if he ever got a temper, Renji was scared that Ichigo would be the one to do something wrong too. He was terrified that if they did this, Ichigo might still just be holding out an elaborate scheme to try to get his guard down enough that he could slay him.

Renji had been vulnerable to Ichigo all day, but he could've just been building his trust enough that he would show him his belly completely, in a sense.

As if sensing his distress, Ichigo raised a hand to his searing face, drawing back when his burning hair was just too hot. "I'm not trying to catch you off guard. Maybe it's foolish, but… I'd stay in this woods with you… share your punishment. As long as we're together, I'd never want to grow old. If that's not true love, then it doesn't exist," Ichigo said passionately, meeting his gaze.

"I'm at your mercy," he said solemnly, closing his eyes and laying there, head back.

Renji's fire went out as he looked down at him in disbelief. The amount of trust it took to just submit like that… He didn't _deserve_ that trust. Renji leaned down, swallowing hard as the golden sun lit up Ichigo's hair and neck. He brushed his nose and mouth against the warm skin, the delicate veins there and the tendons of his throat.

Grazing his teeth against his jugular, Renji felt Ichigo's pulse remain the same. Ichigo… Ichigo didn't see a monster. He saw a man, a human, maybe even still thinking of him as mortal. Even if he was wrong, was that so bad? He'd just never thought that someone could love him that much.

Running a hand over Ichigo's face in adoration, Renji whispered against his pulse-point, "I will never hurt you." He kissed his skin firmly, feeling the bump of his heart-beat coming through against his mouth. "Absolutely never."

"I know," Ichigo answered, eyes finally opening a little as he smiled warmly, a hand coming to the back of Renji's neck as he wrapped his legs up around his waist.

Renji swallowed and kissed Ichigo's exposed neck again, cautiously taking a taste and running his hands along the collar of his shirt, opening it slowly and then moving his hands over the smooth expanse of skin. Ichigo ran his fingers over his hard muscles, tracing his tattoos endlessly.

Renji hissed when Ichigo did it again, and drew back and knelt in-between his legs, pulling anxiously at the ties to Ichigo's pants. Ichigo lifted his hips and let Renji pull them off. Sitting up, Ichigo noticed that Renji didn't look at his bare body much, occupied with laying his clothes down on the meadow grass so that he could lay there upon them without getting itchy.

"We do this to join only, you understand," Renji explained seriously. "We cannot have children. It's for love reasons." He made sure Ichigo was crystal clear on that. Ichigo just laughed once. So naïve.

"Yeah, I know. That's what I meant all along."

Renji nodded. "I never thought you could want me… while I'm like this," he said self-deprecatingly, but Ichigo lay on his back, pulling Renji down to him, bare legs wrapping around his hips as their chests pressed together.

"No other way would suit me," Ichigo said as he kissed Renji deeply, getting an easy slow response, lips firm but pliant. Renji let out a long breathy sigh, sinking into his arms and hitching Ichigo's legs higher around his hips, pressing their pelvises together.

Ichigo enjoyed the sun on his bare skin, humming peacefully as Renji moved back slightly, kissing his way down his stomach to his white shorts. Renji bit the front, mumbling once, and Ichigo smiled as Renji's hair trailed over his stomach, hiding his eyes slightly. His big hands skimmed down his sides and paused at his hipbones. "It's warm," Renji commented, placing his fingers on Ichigo's crotch, massaging slightly, drawing a pleased hum from Ichigo.

Ichigo lifted his hips up to let Renji divest him of his underwear, pulling them halfway down his thighs. Renji didn't blush as Ichigo had expected him to, just rubbing Ichigo's growing arousal with the flat of his palm, not drawing much reaction until he gripped it and squeezed.

"Ah!" Ichigo hissed in surprise, and Renji pursed his lips, squeezing tighter. "Ah, ch- choutto, mate! Ite."

"Nn," Renji hummed, easing back on his grip, pumping Ichigo once experimentally. Ichigo hummed and lay back with a dazed smile. "Hn?" Renji mumbled, as if to say 'you like that?'

"Mm," Ichigo replied, closing his eyes as he felt Renji snake his hard body over him, every inch of corded muscle dragging over his torso as Renji surged up to kiss him. Ichigo whined and wrapped his legs snugly around Renji's back, reaching between them down to the front of Renji's pants, sliding his hand inside. Of course, he'd expected him to have no underwear on underneath, but Ichigo was surprised to feel him still soft.

Renji made a low noise in response to Ichigo's touch, slowly getting hard as Ichigo fumbled around between them, tugging his pants down inch by inch.

"Enter me," Ichigo gasped, nervous, but firm. He'd never been more sure of anything.

"I hope you know," Renji said, "that you are the only man in my world, and once we do this, there is nothing for you. I will follow you anywhere. Nothing would keep me away, not even your spoken order." He groaned, pulling his pants down enough that when he laid down again, their erections could press together, hot and stiff between their bellies.

"I think I'm okay with that."

"That's good. As long as you're sure…"

Ichigo grunted as he felt the wet head of Renji's penis prodding at him, pressing once, twice, and then seriously pushing. "Ah," he hissed, moaning in pain, louder and louder, gritting his teeth hard as Renji shuddered above him, holding himself straight.

"Ggh… it's too tight. I can't get in," he gasped, trying his hardest to pop the head inside. Ichigo jolted once, seizing in pain and growling hard as Renji made it fit, pushing in an inch, slick from saliva and sweat. "Can you endure?" Renji asked, panting over him as Ichigo bit his lip hard and moaned as he pushed in farther.

"Ahh," Ichigo hissed, looking down between them, contemplating whether it was going to get worse or if it would get better soon. "How much more?"

"Almost… Yes," Renji hissed as their hips pressed together, collapsing on top of Ichigo, kissing his chin, his neck, letting Ichigo cling to him and squeeze him so tight with his thighs on either side that he thought his ribs would break.

"Ah- _Ah!_ " Ichigo gasped in pain, feeling as though he'd split apart, his pulse sky-rocketing, able to feel it through every inch of his skin. The adrenaline was incredible, and the heat alone was enough to… Oh, the pain, it was horrible, but it made it feel like it was worth it, that he understood what he was undertaking. Even though it hurt, he wanted to keep going, he didn't want to change his mind, and that must make it real. It was a contract in blood, and he didn't regret it in the least.

Renji began moving in and out tentatively, causing Ichigo to bite his own forearm hard as he moaned in pain. "Ah," he hissed. It wasn't so bad. It was more of a throbbing pain rather than a stabbing agony anymore, and as his erection rubbed against Renji's hard stomach with each thrust, it became more of a pressure-pain than a rip-pain.

Renji's arousal pulsed within him, deep inside as he rolled his hips jerkily. "Oh," he groaned lowly, sweat dripping from his brow as he hulked over Ichigo. Ichigo's hands came to his face and pulled him back down, ankles linking behind his back.

Ichigo never would've thought he would have consummated his first relationship by making love in a field with a human-dragon hybrid, but it was beyond anything he'd ever imagined marriage to be. Truly, he could spend the rest of his mortal days this way, rolling in the sun-warmed grass with Renji above him, even if it always hurt like this. A buzz was spreading through his lower body, making the pain bearable as his sweat stuck Renji's belly against his.

He laced his fingers behind Renji's neck and spread his legs wider, letting Renji rut into him, his grunts resonating through his big chest. No, a monster couldn't do this. It wouldn't have a prayer of being this gentle, not even a glimmer of a hope to love him like this.

Renji panted, pausing, looking down into his eyes as if he'd heard him thinking. He leaned down and kissed him on the lips, sliding his arms underneath Ichigo's back and holding them together, their arms and legs entwining as tightly as they possible could.

There was skin contact everywhere, and it was so warm, but it wasn't the same as the heat when Renji got upset. It was human body heat that would build if two people stood close together, and it made Ichigo yearn for more.

He would never abandon his family, but he'd made another promise now. He would find a way. He would find a way to help Renji and make things work, because he couldn't bear the thought of a true love only lasting for one day. What kind of a fool would that make him?

True love. He never thought… He'd never…

He'd always expected it to be Orihime. He'd tried and failed to see her through those eyes, to want her like a prince wants a princess, but he just hadn't felt something strong enough that he could call it true love. His father had said that the moment he'd seen Masaki, it was like he'd been struck by lightning. They'd gotten married a week after meeting, and Ichigo could remember from when he'd been young, how in love they'd been. He'd never felt so devoted to Orihime, but for Renji, he felt like if he lost this, the world would be drowned in tears.

Unwilling to break their embrace, they rocked against each other as much as they could, their voices growing tighter with pleasure as the sun warmed them, shining through Renji's hair and setting his back aglow. Ichigo's nails skimmed down his shoulder blades and Renji seized up, thrusting deep and cumming, cock tensing as Ichigo felt warmth burst within him.

Renji let out a long satisfied groan, remaining inside as cum leaked out around him, getting Ichigo's' lower back wet when it slid between his legs and further on. Ichigo fisted a hand around his erection between them, clenching down around Renji's sensitive arousal to stimulate himself enough to orgasm. It had hurt damn near to the end, and now that the pleasure was over, he was left with a stabbing pain that shot out with each heartbeat.

Renji growled sleepily, a hungry glint in his eye as Ichigo went limp, panting. He held him close, Ichigo's seed caught between their bellies as he rolled them over, Renji on his back, Ichigo lying on top of him. Renji eventually slipped out of him, along with the wetness, slightly cooled by the breeze, but Ichigo just remained there, head on Renji's left pectoral. His backside throbbed, but all he felt was utter peace.

He pressed his ear flush against his skin, head bouncing slightly with each heartbeat. Renji gave a pleased sigh, eyes closing as he pet Ichigo's face clumsily, palm closing over his ear and further on down his neck with each stroke, giving Ichigo pleasant tingles down his back.

Renji's heavy arms settled on his back, rolling him to the side and hooking his muscled thigh over Ichigo's hip, drawing him in close against his heaving chest. A low rumble sounded as Renji drifted off, still holding Ichigo tenderly. Yes, this was the man's true nature. Even sleeping, he was a gentle soul. Ichigo smiled, snaking his limbs around Renji's body.

The breeze against his cooling sweat should've made him shiver, but Ichigo didn't feel cold. He didn't think he ever would again.

* * *

 _And right now, I have you.  
For a moment, I can tell I've got you,  
cause' your lips don't move, and something is happening,  
cause' your eyes tell me the truth: I've put a spell over you…_


	5. Chapter 5

_I don't wanna' live, I don't wanna' breathe,  
_ _unless I feel you next to me.  
_ _You take the pain I feel  
Waking up to you never felt so real._

* * *

Ichigo sat up, having pulled his clothes back on while Renji lay lethargically on his stomach, a big arm still strapped around Ichigo's middle. He was being incredibly lazy, but whenever Ichigo would try to move away to put on his clothing, he would latch on so tight that he'd be dragged slightly, grunting in annoyance.

"Lazy bum," Ichigo commented as Renji told him to lean down because he wanted to kiss him. He did not, making Renji settle for kissing the side of his tummy. He grabbed him tight and tried to drag him down to lay with him again, but Ichigo pried himself up onto his elbows again as Renji lay heavily in the grass like a big cat.

Renji gave a loud yawn, tongue curling like a tiger, teeth bared, and Ichigo shoved his head away good-naturedly, drawing another grunt. Damn dragon.

By then, Ichigo was thoroughly convinced Renji was the dragon from the legend, maybe the warrior too, if that was possible. Maybe Renji remembered something about it and just didn't feel like sharing that with him.

"Ne," Renji said lazily, wanting to say more, but too satisfied and pleasure-lax to do so. He clumsily picked a little clover flower and set it on fire, having close enough control in his relaxed state to still be able to hold Ichigo with his other arm.

Ichigo took the stem, allowing Renji to continue holding it with him so that the flame wouldn't go out, and he jokingly smelled it with a smile, coughing a little from the smoke. Renji smiled, head resting on the side of his own upper arm. Being accepted felt so good. He wouldn't have been able to bear it if Ichigo had been afraid of him. Hopefully he could always be this controlled in his movements. If he hurt Ichigo and scared him off, he didn't know how he'd be able to go on. That would just be _it._

"Kireii, ne?" Renji mumbled. "I grew to hate fire, but… your hair makes me love it again. Can I… " Ichigo bowed his head down slowly, letting Renji place that same hand that could light that flower at will flat on his hair, showing immense trust. Renji was cautious at first, but then dug his hand through his orange hair and let it stay there. It was slightly stiff from river water, ruffled from sex, but Renji still smiled widely, just letting his hand sit there. "Soft, na?"

"Compared to yours, maybe. You must be itching like crazy after that swim."

"I didn't notice until you said that," Renji growled, scratching his scalp and trying to yank his fingers through his tangled hair, unsatisfied with the texture. Ichigo came behind him and took the tie from his hands, raking his hair off his neck and pulling it high up. With his widow's peak, it seemed like it was almost made to be in a high ponytail, but Renji seemed displeased by this. "Not like that, Ichigo, please," he warned, but Ichigo didn't listen, tying the string and then pulling the pieces tight so that it stuck up tall like a spiky pinecone. It was dorky, but oddly charming.

Renji seemed unamused and perhaps sad, but Ichigo promised he loved to see the whole of his face, which seemed to settle him down a little. Humming to himself absently in woe, Renji lay on his stomach, elbows in the grass as he dragged his pointer finger over the ground, searing a trail in triangle shape, then a star.

Then Ichigo watched as he nudged him in the side and told him to spell out his name. Ichigo did, doing his last name first, and listened as Renji read it aloud. Kurosaki Ichigo.

He let Renji write his own name next to his and put a circle around them. He took a moment to recognize Renji's first name, having been pulled in to that one character immediately. The second character meant 'next', but the first… was 'romantic love'…

Not even 'ai', but 'koi', the deepest and most intimate love that there was. That got to him more than it should. It's not like the characters in a name have any real meaning, nor does the name itself, but still, that warmed Ichigo's heart a little.

It made it even harder to think of what he may have done with this… _person_. Was this bestiality? Was Renji really a dragon-shapeshifter? Would he ever show him what he truly looked like? More importantly, had he _always_ been like this? Renji had made it sound like he'd been whole once, long ago, either full dragon, or full human, but how had it happened?

Thinking that it was better to ask and be rejected than to never say anything, Ichigo spoke up, sitting next to him on his bum gingerly. His ass was _incredibly_ sore and throbbing like crazy, but luckily, the flesh there healed as fast as that of the mouth. He'd be fine in three days, tops.

"Why are you like this?" he asked somewhat gently, placing a hand on Renji's back and gesturing to his burning finger. Renji looked up, startled at the question, finger going out rather than burning brighter, which was a good sign.

"I was cursed a long long time ago," Renji said, looking him in the eye. "Don't you know?"

"Well, I figured that. How did you come by it, I mean?"

"Ahn," Renji said lowly, turning away slightly, looking back at the ground and digging his hands through the grass, combing it with his fingers as he thought of how he should begin. Ichigo could already tell that this was a difficult subject. "I come from the valley too, you know? I lived there once when it was much larger, when it used to stretch south almost to the ocean."

Ichigo hummed at the new development. He'd heard something like that about the history of their town; before a massive fit of arson, their town had been bigger, and almost connected with a seaport. His heart went cold as he immediately made the connection between Renji living there at that time and the town burning nearly to the ground. What had happened?

Hairs rose on his neck. So many people had died in that fire. It was the reason all the buildings were newer and so many of the older generations were harsh people, having lost their entire families. What had Renji done? He started to feel lightly queasy. No, no, he couldn't have. Tell him it wasn't true!

"There was a young man," Renji went on, brow furrowed, "There was supposed to have been a young man who felt the call to power and violence, who lived a long time before me, and he took up arms for sport." Ichigo ears perked up. The legend _hadn't_ just sprouted up in the last century then. It had been told when Renji had been young too, and if he was talking about the story, that meant that Renji couldn't be the same person. Still, if Renji was mentioning this now, he must have something to do with it.

He was very eager to hear whether the versions of the legend had changed, if anything had become lost in translation over time. If Renji had been involved, surely his rendition would be more clear.

"He never harmed a child, but he did harm others. He called for challengers and had no shortage of them. The point was that he was wasteful and disrespectful of human life, and finally of a witch's lover. He killed her lover…" Renji repeated, eyes closing once as he shook himself back on track. Ichigo listened silently. He'd never heard the reason why the witch had become upset with the fighter. He'd always thought it was a little silly to try to change a person's ways like that as long as they weren't harming other people. Sure, the warrior _was_ harming others, but those 'others' weren't exactly victims in the matter. They had died as opponents, meaning they had come of their own will.

He'd killed a witch's lover, probably in a duel, in which case she was resentful that her lover had lost and was now dead. Ichigo knew well that the death of someone dear to you stung like nothing else. "Yes?" he prompted. "What did she do then?" Renji looked up, like he'd forgotten Ichigo had been listening.

"She put a curse on the blade he carried which would make him prove his worthiness again were he ever to take it up once more, and then put him into an enchanted sleep, such that whosoever looked upon a face like his and still found beauty could wake him and cure his power-lust in waking life," Renji said lowly.

Ichigo was silent for a while. That wasn't a version that he'd ever heard told before, although it was similar, to give his kinsmen credit. The gossip that had taken place over a single century of the five hadn't warped the story _too_ badly.

"Surely, you aren't he?" Ichigo said doubtfully, looking into Renji's eyes. Renji shook his head. "Where do you come into this?" Ichigo asked.

Renji gave a long sigh, and it took Ichigo a moment to realize how far Renji had come by means of talking to him. His voice was still a little raspy from lack of use, and he still paused at inappropriate times, but he had made a lot of progress. This was obviously deeply personal, and he was showing a level of trust unlike Ichigo would have been able to reciprocate. He still didn't feel okay about talking about what had happened with his mother, but maybe someday…

"The sword had been cursed even before the witch came along, you understand. It was cursed all on its own from the beginning. It's a famous Muramasa sword, if you know," Renji explained, and Ichigo immediately remembered the swords of long-past samurai that had a tendency to cut and kill their wielder, the first of many yoto blades.

"It was already famous in its own right, which was why it was so valuable to this young man. He'd defeated the previous owner and felt that it was rightfully his, and it _was_." Ichigo still didn't see what this had to do with Renji, but he listened on.

"Of course, others were seeking out the sword too, since the one who has it is supposed to have the capability of becoming the best swordsman in the world. Even if that is all hokum, people believe it."

"Even the wielder?" Ichigo wondered, "Is that why he wanted it so bad?" What was the allure of being the best in the world at something? Was that even possible? At some point, your skill must become so high that you can't advance any further, right? Meaning that there never _could_ be a 'best'…

"I don't think he believed that. He probably just took advantage of that convenient little superstition, because it drew more opponents to him. He could've been the best all on his own, because of the sheer distance in his skill from everyone else's. A sword of power was just the crowning jewel… Still, you understand that people thought if they had the _sword_ , that capability would automatically become theirs, but that wasn't true." Ichigo nodded, and Renji sighed, "The point is, when that sword was left alone for four centuries without its one and only master…"

Renji swallowed. "That much bloodshed makes anything heavy, and Muramasa swords are meant to thirst and be unable to be sheathed until they've cut something. This could be why… why whoever goes to retrieve it, ends up being hurt. They say it could even compel you to cut your belly open," he said with a hard gulp, "and I believe it could."

"You… You've seen…" Ichigo mused, having figured that of course he would've had to have seen it or touched it for something to happen, but the horror that Renji had once tried to claim the sword was monumental.

Renji shook his head 'no', with his eyes closed, continuing, "By the time I was of age…" He smirked a little, brows furrowed as he made fun of himself, "I thought myself a man then, you see…" His voice lost all humor as he continued, "And I was part of a rogue order of forest-men. Bowmen, actually. From near the ocean… A few of us wanted to sneak away and see if we could try our hand at wielding such a powerful weapon. I don't know who we thought we were to do something like that."

Ichigo felt like telling Renji to stop when he could hear in his voice how much it was upsetting him, but he let him continue. He got the feeling that this was the first time Renji had had someone to tell the story to, and the memory was still fresh in his head, like he'd thought about it so obsessively that every single detail was still intact.

"The sword had been up there for four hundred years at that point, supposedly, and anything unseen that remains for that long takes on a legendary status, you understand. You'd think that if we took the curse more seriously, we wouldn't have gone to find it, but that was exactly the reason we went. We didn't think of the consequence, and… we decided to search the mountain-top."

Renji let out a breath, "I felt like… I feel like the moment my hand touched the bare rock up there, something just twisted in my chest and… changed forever. I only took a _pebble,_ but I woke to insanity. Hallucinations. Some would call it dragon's greed, but I think it was different. I felt compelled to… to jump," he choked out harshly. Ichigo just stared, heart pounding.

"I was telling myself it was just my mind, that I was just getting scared because the stories said everyone who came to the mountain died. I thought it was just my own imagination, because I hadn't even _seen_ the sword. In all that time, I never even looked at it, and the curse was still so strong. I didn't realize at the time… I thought… I thought I was just being paranoid and freaking myself out, because nothing had really happened to me yet. I was just looking out over the abyss, having open-eye nightmares."

Ichigo was quiet, goosebumps on the back of his neck as he imagined Renji standing there on the edge of a cliff, staring off into space, tossing and turning in his head.

"I figured I'd let my fear get to me and that we'd all have a good laugh about it once we left. Poor Abarai, pissing his pants like a coward…" Catching his last name and the forced laughter in his voice, Ichigo looked down at the ground.

"I don't know how long I stood there waiting, but needless to say, I was the only survivor," Renji said slowly, looking at his hands. Ichigo felt like Renji had skipped over some traumatizing event, but said nothing about it. "I left the mountain and tried to go back home by myself, but… I… I was different. It… I wanted to go back so badly that I was gouging out my own skin trying to keep from turning around."

He met Ichigo's eyes for one horrible moment to make him understand the magnitude of that, looking crazed. "I was _clawing out my own flesh._ I thought I would _die_ if I didn't go back to take that sword." Ichigo swallowed, gazing back into those tortured eyes until they drifted off dazedly. "… I _had_ to look at it or I'd die. I had to, I… It was so compelling that I thought I couldn't live for one more second if I… if I didn't," Renji's voice grew tight and cracked, and Ichigo saw distressed golden moisture appear, smoke rising from the grass Renji's smoldering fingers were tangled in.

"It was horrible. I… I thought I would lose my mind from how much I needed to turn back, but I didn't. I didn't, and… sometimes I think that was the worst mistake of my life. I could've gone back and tried to take the sword, but I would've perished too… I could've gone back, but I didn't. The pain inside was so bad, and… I felt like I was burning from the inside out, and it actually turned out that I _was_."

Ichigo listened, a hand over his mouth as he tried to stay silent through Renji's near-tearful story.

"I couldn't swim anymore without my heart pounding so fast that I thought I'd collapse, and… I couldn't sneeze or I'd light the grass on fire… I couldn't even mourn without burning my own face. I… I was so upset and scared that…" Ichigo swallowed hard, eyes wide, hoping against hope that Renji wouldn't tell him that this was the time that he'd gone and burned the town to the ground.

"I…" Renji took a deep inhale. Ichigo held his breath, feeling sick to his stomach. "I went to sleep, and in the night, there was horrible pain. I had no dreams from that night on, and I woke screaming. I swear someone was pressing me with a brand and burning my whole body… I was probably rolling around, screaming my head off and setting the grass on fire, and in the light, I could see my arms and my legs… these glowing patches as bright as live coals. I thought I would die from the pain. My throat was bleeding cause' I was yelling so much, and… I couldn't do anything. My whole body, I had to watch as this fire was carved over it, and finally, everything went out and turned black like they are now…"

Renji let out a breath in relief, having gotten the worst part over with. "I've never felt pain like that. I didn't know someone could hurt so much… I probably just laid there in a ball for a day. I couldn't move… I thought it was over for me."

Ichigo bit his knuckles when Renji cautiously wormed a hand through his. He hoped Renji could keep it under control, because if he had a spike of emotion, Ichigo would have to let go.

"From then, I was in despair and could light fire at will, walk on hot coals, set my head ablaze and feel nothing. I wandered the woods for a month, because… how could I… how could I go around normal people ever again after that? When I finally got the courage, my order found out what I was becoming, some kind of hell beast- What was it… 'Fire child', they called me," Renji said, clearing his throat. "They threw me out and ran me out of town and threatened to kill me if I were to return. I listened. I didn't want to fight for my right to stay, because if…"

Renji looked away, starting again slowly, "I had only just gotten my powers and I couldn't control them at all. You probably realize that when I get worked up, I can't do a thing to stop it, and at that point, it had all just happened so recently, and I was really in distress… If I lost it during a fight and hurt someone, I wouldn't have… I couldn't…" Renji shook his head, tears in his eyes that went cool and hardened the moment they rolled over, leaving golden metallic strips on his cheeks.

"I would've stayed away, but I didn't want to leave my younger sister. Neither of us had parents and we weren't really related, but I feel that we were family. She'd been adopted recently by a clan head, and… everyone thought she had helped me escape. I heard they had her hanged," he said lowly, scrubbing his eyes furiously, gritting his teeth. "He adopted her as his own sister, his real sister. I trusted that he loved her. How could he do this?!" Renji raged.

"I'm… I'm sure that she would've been the one person who would've…" Renji shook his head, swallowing, tears trickling down his chin, dripping off and hissing against the cool ground, leaving the dirt wet with little beads of cooling gold. Ichigo patted his shoulder to let him know that someone _did_ accept him, someone _did_ love him anyways.

Renji sniffed and wiped his eyes, grunting in response. "I couldn't bear it. I felt more alone than I'd thought it was possible… It was okay that they'd shunned me and thrown me out, but to hurt her when she hadn't done anything… I had to have revenge for her. The rage was incontainable once the sadness wore off… I burned the town," he admitted darkly, "starting with him."

Ichigo was quiet for a long time, which Renji mistook for horror. Worried that he'd be abandoned, Renji wrapped his hand around Ichigo's shirtsleeve and tightened his fist, rubbing his wet eyes against Ichigo's shoulder. Ichigo ran a hand over his heaving back, calming him down a little.

Renji sniffed once, backing up and wiping his nose with his wrist. "After that, I went away and stayed in the woods near the mountain. It probably took five or six years before it really hit me that my body wouldn't change. My hair wouldn't grow in past a certain length after I cut it. The same with my nails. They wouldn't progress past the state they were in when I first became cursed. I couldn't lose or gain muscle mass no matter how little I ate. I could never even get dark circles under my eyes, even if I didn't sleep for weeks. I… I couldn't change… or _age_ , is more like it. I'm going to remain this way until the end of time, and even beyond that. This is my punishment for my childish hubris."

"How do we cure you?" Ichigo finally said.

Renji looked up to him with a weary sigh, finally rolling over and sitting up, pulling one knee up to rest his chin on. Ichigo sat back a little, leg brushing against Renji's. "There's no cure."

"It's a curse, which is a spell, and spells can be broken," Ichigo rationalized, setting his mind to finding a way, now that Renji had explained what had actually happened.

"I tell you, there's no curse behind eternal youth. I'm not human anymore, do you see? I've become a monster. What's done is done. It's not a disease. It's already done," Renji said listlessly, eyes glowing like coals, distant and mourning. Ichigo shook him by the shoulder, trying to bring him out of it.

"No, no, there has to be _something_ ," he insisted. Renji looked at him as if to say, 'you and your stupid young ideas'. Renji had had a century to think these things over, but Ichigo still felt the need to do so too. "Did you take something from the mountainside? A pebble?" Renji nodded. "Do you still have it?"

"How could I?"

"Think," Ichigo demanded. Renji shook his head.

"It's not the rock I touched, it's the sword. It put a curse over the whole place, the entire mountain. It's even making its way through the woods and towards the town. I can feel a change in the air when I pass over the line dividing the safe and unsafe ground."

"Towards the town…" Ichigo trailed off, aghast, pushing his hair back from his forehead. The villagers had said, but he'd thought that was a load of crap.

The sun was setting, and Ichigo could see fireflies winking in the distance in the dying light. He wrapped his shirt tighter around himself, thinking about building a campfire, but was there really a point? He side-glanced at Renji, scootching closer to him.

"The witch is long dead, but the magic remains inside that sword," Renji continued, hands resting on his own tummy, tracing his brands absently, "and without a master, it… it _rages_. It wants blood. It… it wanted _my_ blood," he whispered, eyes haunted. "Who knows what will happen if the sword is taken or damaged… I may die. The years I've accrued may catch up to me and I'll fade away. Maybe I'll become human again," he said wistfully. "Most likely, _nothing_ will happen. What's done is done… But I don't mind this anymore… I suppose I don't feel so alone now that you're here," he said with a small smile, looking to Ichigo and laying down on his side next to him.

Ichigo leaned back on his elbows, looking at the awakening stars.

Renji would live forever, but he would not. He knew Renji had yearned to die, that he'd probably tried to end his own life, to cease his endless stalking of the earth, but now that they'd met, Renji had a purpose again.

However, Ichigo knew that one day he would die, and Renji would be alone again with no way to follow him. That may seem like a long time to Ichigo, but to Renji, it was simply a slice of a never-ending reality.

On the evening star, the first one that had lit up, Ichigo promised to find that sword. Destroying it may kill Renji, but it would bring him peace, and that's what Ichigo wanted more than anything, even if it meant his true and only love would be gone forever and that their time together had amounted to one day.

Ichigo was sure that Renji was the dragon from the legend now. He'd been the sole survivor and had been wandering around, keeping anyone else from coming to the mountain just because of his reputation. The legend had warped on its own and said that this 'dragon' that no one had ever seen had been there the whole of the five hundred years, even though no one could confirm it…

Fire powers and eternal youth. Some would call it a blessing, but Renji was clearly suffering. Ichigo was sure he could end this.

The way Ichigo saw it, this wasn't eternal life, it was eternal slumber. Life without change was slightly different than eternal youth, wasn't it? All Ichigo had to do was start the timer again. It might not get rid of Renji's flame powers, and it may kill him, but Ichigo wanted to end Renji's pain, even if only in part.

His pain without Renji… His pain was _nothing_ compared to what Renji would have to endure without _him._

He didn't know how long he lay there steeling his resolve, but when he looked down at Renji's sleeping face, it was all the assurance he needed. He ran a hand over Renji's ear and the back of his head, leaning down and kissing his forehead.

The townspeople would think he had been killed if he didn't return soon, but never mind that. His purpose for being out here had changed. He had a new person he needed to protect, with all his heart.

Ichigo stood up, made sure Renji was fast asleep in the grass, and ran away into the night, the mountain glowing by the light of the moon.

* * *

By the light of the dawn, Yumichika woke, the cold remains of their fire last night staring him in the face. Yawning and curling up, he closed his eyes, resting in the chilled morning dew for just a few minutes longer. When he finally sat up, rubbed his eye sockets hard, and looked around, he noticed a certain absence of a large bald idiot, who had been snoring and kicking him in the back for the greater part of the night.

Snapping awake, Yumichika looked around in panic. Damn. _Damn._

Ikkaku hadn't even been able to wait until morning before disappearing and running off for that sword? Yumichika shook his head, stretching his legs and casually walking over the hill, shivering in the chilled morning air.

Well, there was no need to remain at the campsite then. There was nothing there of value now, no reason to wait there. It wasn't like Ikkaku would leave him a note in the dirt explaining his absence. Yumichika called his name once to ensure that Ikkaku really had ditched him in the night without bothering to wake him.

Even though Yumichika would've been cranky at being woken at three or four in the morning, if Ikkaku had needed to continue that badly, he would've followed, he would've _come_. Didn't Ikkaku know that? Had he purposefully snuck away? Surely he knew that Yumichika would come after him, or did he not even think of that. Did he not even _care?_

Yumichika really was nobody to him. Just a person five hundred years in his future who didn't really matter or exist. He wasn't worth fighting, and therefore, he wasn't worth noting.

' _Kuso.'_ Yumichika grit his teeth in ire, hands in his pockets as he kicked some tall grass, sending a shower of dew over his foot.

He shouldn't feel a sense of duty to go after Ikkaku. It wasn't his _job_ to fix someone who was so messed up and fixated upon a material item. Yumichika could walk away right now and wait for the rumors to reach him again of the warrior returning to battle. He could walk away and forget all about this, but that kiss…

 _He'd_ been the one to wake Ikkaku up. That had been no coincidence. He was absolutely positive that it hadn't been exactly five hundred years since Ikkaku's initial sleep. It hadn't just 'worn' off at the right time. Ikkaku had woken up because of his presence, or his touch, or his _voice,_ and wasn't that something?

What if he really was meant to try to change Ikkaku's heart? To… to love him maybe? Unconditionally?

Yumichika could do that. He could do that easily. He could easily imagine a life where he saw nothing but the back of Ikkaku's head and shoulders as he fought and slayed. He could imagine patching him up and telling him he'd seen an even _tougher_ guy for him to fight next. He could imagine Ikkaku tolerating his presence and maybe even enjoying his company after a while once he realized that Yumichika had accepted his roaming violent nature… but… was that what Yumichika was supposed to do?

Hadn't he been the one to wake him because he was meant to try to save him from this?

Was Ikkaku supposed to have fallen in love with him too, so that Yumichika could subtly influence his decisions, maybe make him choose between the sword and his life-long love?

Well, look what had prevailed. Ikkaku didn't feel a thing for him.

He may have awoken Ikkaku, but that didn't make him worthy or even capable of changing the man. Even if Yumichika put aside his mixed feelings about whether or not he even wanted to change Ikkaku's heart, the fact about whether or not he _could_ really bothered him.

Even if he tried his very hardest, he probably wouldn't even make a difference. He wasn't able to sway Madarame's opinion.

Ikkaku wanted to be the best. He had a clear goal, and even if Ikkaku really had liked him, he was obviously not the type of man to forsake his ambitions for anything else. Yumichika wasn't worthy to be his number one priority, and it was plain now that this whole thing had been a joke. What was Yumichika even doing out here, anyway? He should just turn back.

Even if he caught up to Ikkaku and found him, even if by some miracle he found him _before_ he made it to the sword, he didn't think he knew what to say to make Ikkaku change his mind. Was it even possible? Why would Ikkaku listen to his opinion?

The problem was, Yumichika hadn't thought himself worthy, and Ikkaku hadn't either. It had been a long time since Yumichika had had some self-confidence, some pride, some faith in himself or his own beauty, and this definitely hadn't helped.

He'd failed.

He could've stayed up all night to ensure that Ikkaku wouldn't run off, but he'd blindly trusted that Ikkaku wanted his company, that he'd wait for him, that he'd ask him to come along. The truth was that Ikkaku hadn't even thought it worth the bother to wake him up. It wasn't even that Ikkaku didn't like him that much that he'd snuck away on purpose. He just didn't _care_.

Yumichika… He'd never mattered to anyone, anyway, right? He'd just hoped that it had been different this time, that there had been a tiny bit of magic in that kiss, but what was that worth if Yumichika couldn't keep him around afterwards?

He walked until midday, continuing a cycle of self-destructive thought patterns, wondering how much of a head start Ikkaku had gotten. Maybe it wasn't too late.

He wondered if… when Ikkaku took up that sword again, would it change him too much? Would all traces of Ikkaku's kind flippant personality disappear and leave behind a monster who cared nothing for anyone who didn't bleed at his hands? What if Ikkaku tried to kill him if Yumichika kept persisting that he get rid of the sword? It would be too late at that point to appeal to the good side of him, because the good side would be gone.

He'd _seen_ that good side, the messy little boy who played with bugs and who cared if he felt sick. He'd seen that snappy violent hothead change into someone almost gentle in the short time they'd spent together, and if Ikkaku got his weapon back… he'd revert back to that mean indifferent warrior without a trace of good in him.

Once Ikkaku had that sword in his hands again, Yumichika knew that it would be too late. His own sword was buried in the ground somewhere, and even if it wasn't, Yumichika wasn't ready to take it up again. He didn't feel he deserved to wield. Even if he got over that, against Ikkaku, he wouldn't stand a chance. He knew it like an instinct. Ikkaku may kill him in one blow and leave him for dead.

The worst possible outcome would be that Ikkaku wouldn't even think he was worth drawing his sword for. The humiliation, the scorn would be unbearable.

Yumichika didn't think he could go through any more shame.

The grass began to dwindle, rocks and boulders becoming prominent on the horizon once again, and he began doing more climbing and grappling than walking. The mountain was considerably closer, but Yumichika grew more and more nervous, climbing a tall hill that gave him an impressive vista.

He couldn't bring himself to go closer. The air felt thicker, and… maybe there really _was_ a curse after all… Maybe it was cowardly, but he'd always thought the story and the curse were old wives' tales until Ikkaku proved himself to really be real. Something had certainly affected Ikkaku's mind, curse or not, and Yumichika didn't know if he wanted to be like that too.

If he went up there… who knows what he would become.

Humming and standing at the foot of a tree, then looking up to the mountain, he saw a clear area at the foot of it that was the most obvious way up. If Ikkaku would return, he would come back the way he'd gone, which was likely right there.

He would wait.

Grappling at the pine tree's trunk, Yumichika failed a few times to reach a low limb, hissing when he couldn't bring himself to clench a fist around the spiky branch. He was going to wait here, like it or not!

He would've been fine. He would've borne the pain of having Ikkaku become cruel to him again, he would've pounded through the ache of watching him battle and never receiving a glance. He could've lived his life constantly bleeding like Rangiku, like every other young woman he'd ever met was forced to. He understood now, how they could bear that pain, because that's what he was doing right now, and what he would've been ready to do for the rest of his life. He could've done it. He would've, if he'd been given the chance.

Gritting his teeth and bracing his foot against the trunk, he felt blood burst through his fingers, gushing out, but he didn't release his grip. He wouldn't let go; no, he could take this.

Climbing to the very top branches, looking at the bare mountainside, his breath left him. He couldn't believe his eyes. He hadn't thought there was anything up there left that could burn.

* * *

 _And through it all, how could you cry for me?  
_ _Cause' I don't feel bad about it!  
_ _So shut your eyes, kiss me goodbye, and sleep.  
_ _Just sleep._

 _The hardest part is letting go of your dreams._


	6. Chapter 6

_At the stroke of twelve, the spell will be broken._

* * *

When Renji woke up alone, to say he was devastated was an understatement, but somehow he contained the fireball of rage and despair that could have obliterated the entire forest. Ichigo still had to be around here somewhere. No, Renji had sworn that nothing would keep him away, and he'd meant it. He would hunt that boy down and make him pay for lying to him. He would feast on his heart, he would roast him alive.

Renji could remember the moment he'd realized that he'd been mistaken about Ichigo, seeing that although his hair was bright orange like fire, his eyes were brown, and veritably human. Furthermore, humans were extremely fickle creatures, and Renji couldn't exactly blame Ichigo for losing interest so fast. Oh, it hurt, but he understood.

Ichigo had probably changed his mind after fully realizing just what Renji was… Or maybe he'd just been playing a trick on him that whole time. Really, it had been foolish of Renji to think that Ichigo would stay, that Ichigo would want _him._ Just the notion of it made Renji lose all will to move ever again, causing him to fall heavily to his knees, hands hitting the ground. His head hung low. He didn't even think he had the energy to breathe. Ichigo might have never loved him at all. It could've all been… none of it might've been real. Ichigo could've just been following his original mission the entire time.

Still, if Ichigo had been intending to deceive him by spreading his legs in the woods to get his guard down, why hadn't he taken his opportunity and killed him in his sleep? He had just split and ran for it? What had he gained from that? Had he just fallen out of love that fast?… Or maybe it hadn't been that fast at all.

How long had Renji been laying here?…

Renji's pupils constricted, eyes blown wide as the thought seized him. Just how much time had passed? Heart pounding as he tried not to imagine the worst, he looked around, trying to find a high area to get a glimpse of the mountain. If that tree was still in bloom, then maybe-

No, wait. Something was tickling the back of his neck, and on further investigation, his hair was still tied back, every piece still in place from when Ichigo had fixed it for him. It had been one night only, and Ichigo had taken off.

For a moment he'd thought… he'd thought that maybe… just maybe he'd been asleep for longer, for _years_ maybe, and Ichigo had given up, maybe even died, that maybe Ichigo had still loved him and had waited for him to wake up but had faded away, but no… It was clear that Ichigo had left after only one night, maybe two. Renji had been abandoned, and after Ichigo had _promised_ not to.

Heart exploding with pain, Renji let out a deep keening noise, dragging himself onward to the top of a hill. He could've cried, seeing that mountain, that damn mountain that had taken everything he'd ever known.

 _The mountain_ …

Renji held his breath, jaw slackening, and immediately it made sense. He should've had more faith in Ichigo. Ichigo was a man of honor and integrity. He'd made an eternal promise, even without being able to fully understand the scope of eternity given his mortal viewpoint, but he intended to keep that promise. Ichigo wanted his happiness, what was best for him, and after telling him that story last night, it wasn't hard for Renji to guess where Ichigo had gone.

So Ichigo hadn't abandoned him then. Renji's relief was short-lived, because the place Ichigo had gone… No, he couldn't let him. Foolish, _foolish_ child, going there!

Letting out a breath in aghast, he took off running, only hoping that it wasn't too late. He couldn't let Ichigo go up there. He couldn't bear for anyone else in his life to go through this too, he couldn't bear to lose Ichigo like he'd lost all of his friends. The curse had had another century to grow, and the effect would surely be even worse now. What would happen to Ichigo?

Suddenly, it seemed cruel to him, for life to end, even though he'd yearned for his to do so. It was just too cruel for mortal life to be so short.

Maybe it was because Ichigo would be gone in an instant, but Renji would have forever to mourn.

* * *

Although the mountain was small compared to those judged by global standards, it still took Ichigo most of the day to make it to the bottom and start climbing the less-steep side.

He'd spent hours coming up and down rocky hillsides, not knowing when or where he passed over the so-called barrier that the curse was supposed to have spread to. He didn't feel a sudden difference like Renji had, but if he didn't know better, he'd say it was harder to breathe and incredibly eerie. He put that down to his own imagination and anticipation of something sinister happening, but all the same, he put his gloves on to protect his hands from the rock. For his entire life, he'd believed that it was bullshit, but something definitely _had_ happened to Renji up there, and he decided not to risk it.

Around the foot of the mountain in a radius of at least a half a mile, everything was dead. There was no plant life whatsoever. Even the brambles that had practically choked the forest on the way there were gone.

He thought about Renji on the climb every time he looked back. He'd anticipated Renji having a major meltdown at his perceived betrayal, but he didn't see a section of the forest burning, which was a good sign. Although, that could just mean that Renji had been too depressed to hardly move. Ichigo wondered what he must think… He hoped that Renji didn't believe that he had abandoned him. He hated to do this to the poor guy, but Ichigo felt that this was the right thing to do. Renji would be so relieved when he came back, but the pain right now had to be awful. Worse than that, Ichigo could imagine what might happen if he didn't come back - Renji staying there for years and years, waiting and waiting for his return. No, Ichigo wouldn't allow that.

He'd be back. He'd be back, on his honor.

Ichigo still wasn't sure whether destroying the sword would kill Renji or restore him to his original state – whether that be human or dragon – but he was positive that he was doing the right thing. Whatever happened, he was sure it would bring Renji peace, and Ichigo wanted that, even if it meant living without him for the rest of his mortal days.

More importantly, he puzzled over what he would do if it turned out that he couldn't find the sword. Or, if he _did_ find it, what if he didn't survive long enough to destroy it? _Or_ , if he _did_ survive, how on earth would he destroy it anyway?

Throwing it off the mountain wouldn't work, nor would hurling it into the sea. Those would merely get the sword lost, not destroy it. Ichigo figured lava might be effective. Maybe he could let Renji be the one to end this, if he could get him mad enough.

Making it onto a small plateau, Ichigo wiped his brow, plodding on. The top of the mountain didn't come to a distinct peak, which he'd seen earlier when the clouds parted, showing that the top had a mostly flat ring around the side, where that tree had somehow grown.

It was quiet more than anything. There were no birds, no insects, absolute stillness other than the occasional breeze. He was so high up that he could see the village in the far distance; he felt like he could touch the clouds. He could see why coming up here would give young men confidence in their abilities. It felt like nothing could hurt him up here, even though there was the constant risk of tumbling down the mountainside.

How many before him had tried and failed? Ichigo wondered if he would come upon skeletons, and swallowed hard, telling himself that he was leaving this place alive, no matter what. He had so many people counting on his return, and although one might think that a decision like this was reckless, considering how many would be let down were he to fail, it only made Ichigo more determined to succeed.

The magnolia tree turned out to be colossal up close, beautiful beyond compare. Standing underneath its branches, still far from the trunk, as he looked up through the tall tree, the sun set each pink flower aglow, like ten thousand candles burning just for him. Ichigo had never seen anything like it, walking slowly under the sweet canopy and taking a moment to respect the fact that imaginary legend or not, this was hallowed ground to a multitude of people.

Even if they were all wrong, people had definitely come here believing in something so strongly that they'd risked their lives. People had come here with their dreams on their backs, dreams that were twisted and misguided perhaps, based on the greed for ultimate power, but _strong_ dreams nonetheless. Ichigo felt horribly small in the face of that, letting his own ambition fill him up.

He was here for a good cause, and that was bigger than him, bigger than every youth and thug who had come here wanting to enslave humanity. Ichigo was doing this out of love for his family, love for something greater than himself.

Ichigo didn't want to be remembered as a man who had given his best but had succumbed to the power-lust. He wanted to be known as someone who had withstood against all odds, who had held his conviction and denied the temptation. He wanted to survive through time as a hero.

No, maybe he didn't even want that… He just wanted his family and friends to know that he'd cared about them so much that he could do even something like this, that his desire to help was so genuine that not even an age-old curse could break his resolve.

Ichigo didn't know how to break steel. He'd have to take the sword down from the mountain and have it destroyed elsewhere. What might that do to the people around him? What if he went mad within the time it took to find someone who could melt the sword? What if others found out what he possessed and tried to challenge him for it? What if he was forced to either use the sword for bloodshed or be killed?

Most importantly, where was the damn thing?

Ichigo turned quietly and searched the flat ground, around black boulders and the small cave that was embedded into the mountain's dull peak. He found nothing.

The tense atmosphere and the thinner air was starting to get to him, since he'd been climbing for most of the day, so he sat at the foot of the huge tree-trunk to rest, immediately shooting up when something jabbed him in the back.

What he'd thought was a low broken limb was really an old and incredibly grimy blade that was embedded deep within the wood of the living tree. He'd never be able to get it out of there, but without a shadow of a doubt, he knew, _this was it._

The temptation was magnetizing then, to try to pull it out even though it would obviously be a useless task for human muscles. All the same, he held a hand out, breath ceasing as he ghosted his fingers just above the long handle. It was a daito katana; he knew it the moment he'd laid eyes on it, and it was incredibly beautiful.

Even coated in black spots of mold, the steel was of amazing quality, and still razor sharp from what he could see, probably coming to almost a full three-feet long. He doubted that this blade had been sharpened even once in since its creation, and still wouldn't need to be for some time. The tsuka was woven with dark red thread, simple, but with incredible craftsmanship. The tsuba hand-guard was thicker than normal, a dull gold, oval-shaped, and as Ichigo leaned closer, he saw that someone had spent hours engraving it.

Swallowing hard, Ichigo knew this was the moment of truth. He'd yank that sucker out and then see if he could handle hanging onto it until it was destroyed. He wondered if he'd hear a whispering in his ear, if he'd be compelled to kill himself like Renji had been, or if he would just feel like slaying others mindlessly. Even if nothing happened, paranoia might start to gnaw at him, completely a product of his own mind. Whatever happened, it would be a battle of wills, and he wasn't backing down.

Gently touching the handle and squeezing, he was surprised when absolutely _nothing_ happened. The wind didn't pick up, he didn't get blasted back in pain, and nothing changed within him at all. Gaining confidence, he tightened his grip and tugged, finding that the sword came loose with almost no effort, as if the wood had been a hay bale instead of a thick dense trunk.

Pulling the entirety of the long yoto away from the tree, he realized upon closer inspection, that he couldn't see a mark or even an indent in the bark where the sword had been inserted. It was like nothing had happened at all. Slightly bothered by this, he shuddered and took a look at the blade, half of which was clean and shiny where it had been embedded in the wood, even though the rest was absolutely filthy. This thing didn't seem cursed to him at all. It was just a sword as far as he could tell.

Running the flat of his fingers along the sharp edge, scraping off some mold with his thumb nail, Ichigo gave a low whistle at the beauty and shine of the blade underneath. To his surprise, it was a light weapon, not weighed down by the countless kills it had completed. The only blood he could see on it was around the very base, where someone had failed to clean it completely, the dried brown grit stuck in the very corners.

"I did it," he said lowly in dazed surprise. Hadn't the sword only been able to be wielded by certain people? Maybe… maybe he was _meant_ to have it.

He spent a quiet moment staring at it, wind ruffling his hair as he looked back at his own eyes in the clean part of the blade, black and golden eyes.

Doing a double-take, he shook his head and blinked hard, looking closer, but it had only been a trick of the light. Testing the katana's weight, he did a quick swing. It was so light that it was clear that the wielder would have to rely on their own arm strength and the sheer sharpness of the blade. The sword didn't grant ultimate power, but was a tool of those already in the _possession_ of ultimate power.

Ichigo still wasn't sure if he believed in the curse, even though it was clear that something had happened to Renji. It probably hadn't ever been the sword that was cursed at all. There seemed to be nothing wrong with this thing. Ichigo almost felt like keeping it just to see what people would say. He'd just pulled a legendary sword off the mountain with almost no effort, there had to be something special about him.

Holding it up to the light in both hands, Ichigo let out a slow breath. If there was a curse, a test like Renji had said where the unworthy would die after picking it up, and he'd had no problem, then… did this mean the sword had accepted him?… Maybe he was meant to keep it. Ichigo bit his lip and shifted once, giving a grimace and looking down to the blade.

Well, fuck that, he was destroying this thing.

He'd done it. This wasn't going to be difficult at all. He didn't even feel tempted to keep the sword in the slightest. Like Ichigo had thought, power-lust was all in a person's head and had nothing to do with the sword itself. That hadn't been so hard at all. Most of his effort had been put into getting here; all he had to do now was get back to Renji and make sure he was okay, and then they could destroy this wretched thing.

He startled slightly when he heard a low voice in front of him, and when he looked up, he saw a lean athletic man climbing over the edge of the cliff, holding tight to a tree root and hoisting himself onto the plateau.

The sun glinted off his scalp and his teeth were bared fiercely. His eyes were slanted and dark, marked red in the corners, and his corded ropy muscles were a light tan, scuffed by dirt. Immediately, Ichigo's heart began to pound, because there was something _not_ _right_ about this guy. The look in his eyes… This was a man possessed.

Without realizing it, his grip on the sword became two-handed and tight.

"What do you think you're doing, Carrot-head?" Ichigo snarled in response to that sleight, lowering his center of gravity. He had no intention to fight with this sword, but as far as he knew, there was only one reason people came up this mountain, and he wasn't giving up this thing to anyone else. He'd come to destroy it, and destroy it he would.

"Only one person gets to call me that," he replied. The man's face split in a wicked grin, stance sharp and menacing. There wasn't an ounce of fear in his demeanor, which intimidated Ichigo immensely, because this other guy didn't even have a weapon but still seemed to think he had the upper hand.

He panted, wiping sweat from his brow, not removing his eyes from Ichigo even once other than to crawl over the sword. Ichigo took a step back when he took a step forward. "I don't know why you've got your fingers around that handle when you're not the worthy owner." Ichigo guiltily startled, looking down at it and then back to him. What did he mean?

The guy did him one better and told him right off the bat, "That sword right there belongs to me."

Ichigo swallowed hard. He'd suspected from the man's menacing aura and his conviction in saying that Ichigo wasn't worthy to even touch the handle, but it was just unbelievable. Wasn't this guy supposed to be off sleeping somewhere?

Then… whoever had woken him up… the warrior must have killed them on the way here. He was the reason for the curse having spread over the mountain, he was the reason for all of Renji's pain, for the death of every young man who had fallen victim to the sword's thirst for blood.

"Then _you're_ the one that did this," Ichigo said slowly, eyes narrowing.

"Madarame Ikkaku," the man said, cracking his knuckles. "It's only right that you should know the name of the man who'll kill you." Ichigo exhaled in frustration. "Don't bother telling me yours. It doesn't matter." That irked him quite a bit. He'd gone on to call him 'carrot-head', but wouldn't acknowledge Ichigo's real name, what a _bastard._

Then he had the gall to hold out his hand in all seriousness, smirking and curling his fingers once. "Hand it over."

Ichigo didn't think he'd ever looked at anyone in his entire life and immediately thought that there wasn't a fragment of good in them, because he didn't believe that someone could be inherently evil. Maybe even this man wasn't evil all the way through. The point was, was that there was no _hope_ for him to change, and it must be true if the person who'd awoken him hadn't been able to stop him.

"You snooze, you lose," Ichigo quipped, utterly shocking the man into silence with his crude remark.

"It was only a quick nap. You kept it warm for a couple seconds, now give it back," Ikkaku said again, still moderately calm, eyes dark and contemplative.

Ichigo shook his head, drawing back when he anticipated Ikkaku snapping and trying to take it from him. He did no such thing, raising an eyebrow threateningly. Ichigo was starting to feel cornered, even though he was the one with the weapon. The concern was that it was a weapon that he didn't intend to _use._ If this guy called his bluff, he could just step in and grab it with little consequence. Not that Ichigo wouldn't put up a damn good fight, but it would all be over if the weapon were wrenched out of his hands.

"Naaa? I'll say it again. That's _mine_. What are you doing with it?" he asked, sounding more curious than aggressive now, picking something out of his ear. Ichigo sweat-dropped. He couldn't get a read on this guy. Didn't he feel threatened since Ichigo had the weapon? Wasn't he concerned for his life? Ichigo could _kill_ him – even though he certainly wasn't going to. Maybe Ikkaku could feel that; that must be it.

"You don't plan to kill anyone with it. One look at you would tell me that."

' _Shit!'_

Ikkaku smiled wider, seeming to pick up on a couple tells Ichigo was no doubt dropping. "You may not have gone round the bend from touching it or even standing on this mountain, and that may make you special, but that sword still belongs to me."

"Like I said, you were off sleeping in the woods for five hundred years," Ichigo repeated.

"It's stealing either way, Gaki," Ikkaku said with a smirk, causing Ichigo's face to burn red with anger and shame. "But now I'm interested. You don't want the sword to fight… That might be protecting you from its cries right now…" Ikkaku bowed his head towards it, and Ichigo took a glance at it himself. The bald man's brow crinkled in concentration and curiosity, and moreover, _amusement_ , as if he thought whatever Ichigo's reasoning was, it must be pathetic compared to his.

"If you're not here to try to prove yourself a man, then why do you want it?"

"I need this to break my lover's curse," Ichigo divulged immediately, not seeing any shame in it.

"Hooohh," Ikkaku said, not having expected that answer as he plucked a flower from a low branch, smelling it and raising his eyebrows at Ichigo, even insulting him by turning his back. Oh, that made Ichigo so mad. His hands tightened on the sword. It would be so easy to give in and cut him down, but that would be proving that the sword's will was stronger than him. No, not even that the sword's will was stronger than his, because Ichigo still didn't feel any temptation coming from it. He just had to prove that _he_ could resist becoming violent all on his own.

Still, _not_ hurting Ikkaku when he was deliberately showing a weak point was just like admitting that Ikkaku was right about his inability to harm a fly.

"Oh yeah? What're you gonna' do with it?"

He grinned then, causing Ikkaku's smirk to shrink slightly. Ichigo sank down and held the blade aloft with both hands. "Destroy it!"

Ikkaku certainly hadn't been expecting that from the way his eyes widened in horror when Ichigo swung down the blade as hard as he could, hitting it against the rock of the mountain so fiercely that the bones in his arms rattled. He shouted and did it again harder, determined to break the blade no matter how strong the metal was. He could hear Ikkaku screaming at him to stop, and to his surprise, when he looked down at his latest swing, he saw that the force had been absorbed not by the mountain's rock, but by Ikkaku's foot.

The blade was sharp, and had exposed the metatarsals of Ikkaku's foot. Ikkaku just grinned when he saw Ichigo pause in horror, putting weight on that leg to make blood pour out, staining the sword. That was when Ichigo felt the blade humming within his hand, and unable to yank it away suddenly, all his strength depleting from the shock, Ikkaku kicked the blade upwards and lunged for the handle.

Ichigo's reaction time saved him when he jumped back on instinct, automatically swinging the sword in a wide arc, which Ikkaku easily ducked. To Ichigo's surprise and horror, the man was grinning, truly relishing this, probably his first fight in five hundred years.

Ikkaku kept swiping at him and kicking without pausing or backing off even for a moment, and it was all Ichigo could do to block and hit back with the back of the blade. "Wait!" he shouted, but Ikkaku did no such thing, spotting every opening and weakness and slugging him in the gut when he was too slow to twist out of the way. "Wait!" he demanded, "You have no weapon!" How could he swing with full power or with the sharp side, knowing he was fighting someone with no sword to match? That would be like fighting a child as a man. It wasn't fair.

"I have these!" Ikkaku shouted in glee, holding his fists up, not stopping for an instant in doing a spinning kick, knocking Ichigo backwards and clapping the blade between both hands, trying to flip it out of his grip without grabbing the sharp side. Even he wasn't dumb enough to cut his hands.

Ichigo could see now that Ikkaku didn't even think he needed a weapon to match his strength, and it was true - he didn't seem to. He certainly was fearless. "As long as there's blood in my body, that sword is rightfully mine!" Ikkaku screamed, lunging for it, blocking the flat of the blade with his forearm and jabbing Ichigo's cheek hard. "And I will have it back off your corpse!"

Ichigo spat out a tooth, wiping his face, which Ikkaku grinned at. "Don't you know not to take your hand off your weapon, kid?"

"Don't criticize me!" he shouted, upset that he'd made such an amateur's mistake, dragging the point of the sword in the dirt as he ran towards him, getting serious. Ikkaku just laughed, blocking at lightning speed and countering.

"That's more like it!"

Ichigo had never received formal sword training, and hadn't been taught by another person, but he knew how to fight since he'd been bullied a lot as a kid and had learned to kick ass on his own. He was good at spotting little tells, and just as he thought he was absolutely sure that Ikkaku was left handed, the bastard switched it up to confuse him and just about dislocated his jaw. Ichigo took the hit hard, tasting foot.

Ikkaku made the mistake of pausing to gloat, thinking that Ichigo wouldn't continue and react immediately, but he did, and Ikkaku was sent sprawling into the dirt when Ichigo whacked him in the stomach with the flat of the blade with all his strength.

Wasting no time, then, learning that Ikkaku would fight just as dirty with him, Ichigo stomped on the guy's head and chest, swinging the sword down wildly to try to get him in the face, but Ikkaku rolled and kicked the back of his ankle, sending him falling to one knee for long enough to get caught in a head lock. Ichigo tensed his gut up and stood, slamming them backwards into the cliff-side. He heard Ikkaku shout, breath cutting off briefly as Ichigo reeled forward and then hurled them back again, hearing Ikkaku's head crack against the stone.

Ichigo clawed his way away, panting, adrenaline making his skin tingle as he turned and saw his opponent lying on the ground. For one horrible moment, he thought he'd killed him. Deep down Ichigo knew this guy wasn't going to let up until one of them was dead, but Ichigo just couldn't accept it yet. He wasn't a killer, right? But it wasn't as if he could show mercy here. He'd be forced to either lose or kill Ikkaku, and if that were so, then he sure as fuck wasn't going to just lay down and die.

He'd hoped that he'd at least knocked the guy out so that he could make his escape with the sword without having to kill him, but Ikkaku was already groaning and sitting up. There was no backing down now.

Ichigo tightened his grip. For all the differences between them, they were both men who would have to have their hands cut off before they released their weapon.

"Hunh-!" Ikkaku got up from the ground, blood running down his chin, obviously curled up from the massive blow. "It's my lucky day, na? I thought it made a mistake in thinking you were worthy enough to pick it up," he said, referring to the sword being able to make its own decisions like some kind of sentient being, "but that just makes this more interesting for me." He gave a wicked laugh, mouth a bloody mess. He'd probably bit his tongue when Ichigo had crushed him on the boulder.

After one moment of flexing his shoulders and tensing his fists, Ikkaku was back in it again, kicking and jumping, pressing Ichigo hard to the edge of the cliff, and for a second Ichigo thought he would be kicked right over the side. He figured that would be too much trouble for Ikkaku to go retrieve his body and take the sword. Besides, then it wouldn't be Ikkaku defeating him, but the fall itself.

Ikkaku kicked him hard and caught him by the shirt before he could fall backwards, hurling him behind him. He gave a low laugh, clicking his tongue in pity. "Even to save your own life, you won't cut me?"

Ichigo tried to tell himself that he'd just been too surprised to react in time, but he couldn't help but feel that Ikkaku may be right. Was he soft? So soft that he'd rather fall to his death than take the battle seriously? He didn't want to hurt anyone, honestly he didn't. Drawing blood was different than hand-to-hand in Ichigo's mind, but if he lay down the sword to make this an equal fight, he had no doubt that Ikkaku would just take it and cut him down.

"You're not willing to strike to kill, are you? How do you expect to win like that?"

"I'll figure something out!" he shouted. Maybe he could incapacitate this guy, cut off his feet and make sure he didn't follow. Ichigo didn't know if he was ready to fight to the death, but he sure as hell had to get away from here with a victory.

Ikkaku practically shrieked from laughter, "You say that, but you don't have the skill to decide that kind of thing. Come back in a thousand years and tell me you'll spare my life! You can't back that up! You're too slow!" He hit Ichigo in the face in-between words, each time bypassing his attempt to block.

Keeping the blade back with his crossed forearms, Ikkaku landed a kick to the stomach, then going for another, but Ichigo used his foot to block his next attempt. "Your reasoning is _childish!_ Men like me fight to the last breath. Even if I were to let you go, the sword will take no new master until its previous owner is dead! As long as I can stand, I won't let you walk away! To defeat me, you have to kill me! That's the only way you win here!"

"I don't call that a win," Ichigo growled, seeing an opening and grazing Ikkaku's cheek with the point of the sword, drawing a small cut, but not hardly large enough to gather more than a few drops of blood on the blade. Not pausing, he swiped for his arm. Without those fists, Ikkaku couldn't fight!

Yes, he could cut him now. Renji, Renji was waiting for him. He had to win this, he had to, and to do that, Ikkaku would have to bleed. The sword felt warm in his hands now, grip tight and comfortable. He'd wash the grime off the blade with Ikkaku's blood. Ichigo would win.

Ichigo gave a rough slash, and Ikkaku caught the blade between his hands, seeming to have no problem with being injured if it helped him get an advantage. The sword halted at the heels of his palms, but only after blood gushed from his locked fists. Ichigo grit his teeth, eyes widening as Ikkaku smiled and licked the trail of blood off his face when it reached his mouth, shaking his head.

"You think you're being honorable? Please. The truth is you're too soft to give this sword the blood it needs, and that's just another way a yoto blade will manipulate you. Admit it. You weren't prepared. It's only a matter of time before it realizes that and turns on you," Ikkaku said with a sick glint in his eye, actually looking worried for him finally.

"You're just saying that to scare me off!" Ichigo shouted through gritted teeth, digging the blade down into Ikkaku's hands, but he didn't release his grip, blood dripping onto the rocky ground.

"This is _my_ price, kid, not yours. My burden. Just give it back and walk away right now. I'll spare your life. You go," Ikkaku urged, manic smile fleeing his face as he implored him to walk away alive.

"If I did that…" Ichigo gritted out, the blade slipping slightly through Ikkaku's wet hands. "If I did that, _how could anyone ever have respect for me again?!"_ He slid the blade back through the blood-slick palms, completely coating it and whipping it off in a long red arc as he swung for Ikkaku's head, screaming as he kept coming, slashing and hacking, getting more and more upset each time Ikkaku dodged and blocked, causing Ichigo to chop up his forearms.

"They always called you a hero in the stories, you know!" Ichigo shouted, enraged, only imagining Renji crying those golden tears and wandering the river bank like a caged animal. "I never thought you were evil! I just thought of you as a man who knew what he wanted, someone with a dream, but I was wrong. You're nothing but a _monster!_ You'd do anything for yourself, wouldn't you?! You're not aiming to be the best at all! You don't want to be better than everyone! All you want is to be better than _one_ person, one at a time, over and over! You're a _bully!_ Your determination isn't driven by something greater at all - It's all for yourself!" he spat, finally easing back, leaving Ikkaku panting for recovery.

Ikkaku looked at him for a moment before grinning. "Now you're getting' it," he said, gesturing to Ichigo's clenched fists where he was gripping the sword tight, as he had been for a while. He was becoming one with the sword, letting his rage consume him. Soon he wouldn't be fighting for that lover anymore. He'd be fighting to win, and then, _then_ , Ichigo would understand. Ikkaku was sure of it. "That's the best kind of determination there is. There's nothin' stronger."

"You're wrong," Ichigo said. "There's more people in this world who'd go to the ends of the earth to keep a promise to someone else rather than one they made to themselves, because love drives humans to great lengths. I was one of those people once. Yesterday, actually."

"Are you still?" Ikkaku asked with a smirk, coming at him, already hearing the love for other people draining out of this kid. He already seemed to be forgetting who he'd come here for, that lover of his.

"No. On my own soul, I swear, _I will defeat you!_ " Ichigo shouted, leaping in the air, swinging his blade down. Ikkaku dodged, watching the rock where he'd been standing shatter beneath the strong steel. Ichigo was fierce then, coming at him strong and relentless, catching him with flat of the blade and pushing him hard.

"Big mistake, kid," Ikkaku laughed, latching onto both ends of the blade, not letting go, pushing Ichigo hard. Ichigo dug his heels into the ground, being shoved backwards slowly but surely, little piles of gravel gathering at his ankles. Keeping one hand tight on the handle, Ichigo kept one palm flat on the far side of the blade, pushing back against Ikkaku as much as he could.

Slowly, Ichigo's arm muscles began to tire, and Ikkaku smirked as he felt the kid's strength waver, biceps bulging as he forced the blade to twist, the sharp side aiming at Ichigo's neck as he shoved it slowly closer. By then, Ichigo was flat against the mountainside, nowhere to run, the edge of the blade a few inches from his throat, shaking from their collective efforts.

"Ngh," he groaned, struggling, sweat rolling down his forehead, hand bleeding as the sharp edge dug into his palm and cut it like butter. Ikkaku pressed harder, and Ichigo gasped in pain, feeling the blade hit bone. He howled, gritting his teeth as his arms shook, nearly giving out as Ikkaku pushed the sword towards him with both hands. He grinned, licking his chops, and Ichigo could swear he felt the sword humming and rattling under the touch of its true owner.

Eyes flicking away briefly, he saw the man's expression change abruptly when Ichigo used the pressure against the rock wall at his back to rear up and kick him in the chest. He felt no remorse when he took advantage of Ikkaku's surprise and used a cheap move, kicking him between the legs, only missing slightly, but still hitting enough to really hurt. Ikkaku seized up and fell back, holding himself, and Ichigo took the opportunity to bludgeon him between the eyes with the butt of the sword.

Ikkaku fell hard onto his back, holding up an arm to block, but Ichigo was on top of him then, holding the blade above him like a dagger with both hands. "Too slow!" he shouted in triumph, the point hovering over Ikkaku's heart as he thrust it down.

Ikkaku looked shocked for one singular moment before his eyes narrowed and he grinned. In one fluid move, he snagged his legs around Ichigo's waist and flipped them over, and before Ichigo could react, Ikkaku had seized his hands around the blade and slammed it down just below Ichigo's rib cage with all his strength.

"You mean 'too late,'" he whispered nastily, watching Ichigo's eyes unfocus and his breath pause, blood blossoming through his shirt and pooling on the ground beneath them.

Ichigo looked down at the blade in his chest, wheezing in surprise, still trying to process what had happened, and as Ikkaku's hands left his, all he could see before his eyes closed were his own fingers still firmly wrapped around the handle.

* * *

He'd been too late. He could live forever and had a never-ending supply of time, and yet he'd been too late.

The moment he realized that, seeing that man using his foot to hold Ichigo's chest down while he pulled the sword out of his gut, everything went fuzzy for a minute, and Renji halted.

The blood pounded in his ears so hard that his vision wavered, honing in on Ichigo's body, which had been impaled not a moment before. The rock beneath him was slick with blood, and his limbs were limp. Renji had heard them fighting and Ichigo's cry of victory, but it had only taken a second to turn foul.

He'd failed. Ichigo had failed in breaking the curse, and Renji was going to be like this forever, alone on top of it.

He would've been okay. Renji would've been okay like this, he would've been okay to walk to the ends of the earth with flames in his wake as long as Ichigo had been there. He could've made it, as long as Ichigo had been with him. He could've done it, as long as he wasn't left alone, but now he _was…_ and… and it was all over… for _both_ of them.

Ichigo was dead. Stone cold dead.

The other man stood there, stretching his legs, letting blood freely drip off the blade onto the ground, and an uncontainable rage began filling Renji to the brim, screaming in his ears and shaking him violently. He felt like his very brain was humming and heating up, rattling around inside his skull as he fell to his knees and screamed so hard that his throat bled.

" _NOOO!"_ he howled, slamming his fists down against the heart of the mountain, molten gold tears running down his face and turning black, crusting over in the cooler air.

It was him, he knew it the moment he'd laid eyes on him. Red marks like that appeared in one place and one place only – the pages of that fucking story book Rukia had loved so much. Renji didn't know exactly what had happened, whether someone who tried to claim the sword had to battle a shade of the previous owner, or whether he was really here, awoken from a five hundred year sleep, stopping a boy who'd been equally worthy to lift that blade. There had been a fight, and regardless of the outcome, who had won, who had been right, his Ichigo was dead.

He screamed, and he _had_ to scream, because if he didn't, he'd be sobbing. The rage filled him up, and all the brief fits of violence and slips in his control in the past were _nothing_ to this. He hadn't even known it could get this bad. He'd never let it get to that point, and it never would've on his own. He'd never felt the heat before, but he felt it now, so hot with anger and absolute fury that he could feel his eyes melting and the tie in his hair burn up within a second flat.

With a roar, he leapt onto that killer's back, throwing him down, clawing like the beast they'd always accused him of being. Yes, he felt like an animal, he wanted to cause harm, he wanted vengeance, because if he did this, he didn't have to face the fact that Ichigo was gone just yet, he didn't have to face the loneliness.

This man, he'd taken everything. He'd taken everything away, his last chance, his final hope. He would be in darkness for the rest of his life because of this. He was so angry, so angry that he was acting on instinct, unable to plan his own moves, unable to _think._

Ichigo had failed, and Renji's curse would never break. He hadn't had anything to lose for a century, and now that he'd lost something again, the pain, oh, the pain was monumental.

This guy was fast, parrying immediately and kicking him off, and Renji could see the horror on his face, but he lapped it right up. This would be the last thing he'd ever see. Nothing would be left but ash when Renji was done, nothing. He'd have nothing – just like him.

Dodging the vicious stabs and growing more and more rageful at the wicked grin spreading on the warrior's face, Renji screamed, " _I'll kill you,_ " hurling a ball of fire, feeling embers building up in the back of his throat, ash shooting from his nostrils. His feet cracked the stone beneath him, heat rising in thick waves, suffocating the both of them. "You're the one who caused all this, all of my suffering!" he shouted, lunging, and hitting black stone again as Ikkaku dodged quickly and whacked him in the back with the tooth of the blade, slicing his shoulders clean open. Renji didn't pause for even a moment, blood sizzling as it dripped down his back. He went for the throat, missing barely, but grazing his skin.

He heard the cry of pain and took heart from it. Yes, he'd burn him, he'd burn him to ashes. "You took away my adult years! I'll never grow older! The stars are my only friends, and even they will go out before I do," he shouted, throat raw and aching, metal running from his glowing eyes in streams, doorways to hell as he finally grabbed him by both upper arms and held him to the wall, hearing flesh sizzling beneath his palms. The man screamed, not stopping, writhing as much as he could and kicking him in the stomach, searing the bottom of his foot.

He had severe burns on his arms but still wouldn't drop his sword. The curse was strong, he'd give it that, but Renji's thirst for revenge was stronger. "I lost everything! I was all alone for a hundred years! And then when I finally find someone who cares about me again, _you take that away!"_ Renji screamed, breaking down in tears, weeping bitterly through gritted teeth as he let fire build in his fists and travel up his arms. He would burn this mountain to the ground. He'd burn the world. If Ichigo couldn't live, then nothing could! Starting with this bastard who wouldn't let anything that loved him live – he would be the kindling that would set the world ablaze. He'd burn this whole planet and make a new sun! Nothing could live, nothing would be spared, not with his Ichigo gone!

"He's still alive," the warrior panted, body shaking from the shock, flesh still sizzling, and even Renji could see that that had _hurt._ It looked like something had gouged the skin back from his arms and cauterized it, branding large areas in the shape of hands. Renji wept into his hand, unable to look to Ichigo's still body, shoulders wracking with grief. Ikkaku heaved for air, waving a hand through the smoke, appearing sympathetic. "Don't cry. He still lives, you see?"

Renji shook his head, screaming as a sob tore its way out of his throat. He didn't believe that. Ichigo was dead. He was utterly alone, and all that there was left to do was mourn and punish the godforsaken planet that had birthed Ichigo's murderer.

"The sword is mine," the warrior pressed, "It belongs to me. I told him to walk away and go back to you, but he wouldn't. I didn't want to kill him, but I couldn't let him take it, you see? He left me no cho- _Ah_ -" He dodged, words cut off as Renji punched where his head had been so hard that the side of the cliff shattered, the rock bubbling and melting on impact, cooling instantly as Renji yanked his arm back, leaving it coated in sharp igneous rock.

"I won't let you live!" Renji shrieked, heating up again, arm dripping lava, advancing on him as quick as Ikkaku could maintain the distance between them. "You'll pay for this," he hissed, and every time he thought back to where Ichigo was laying, his heart convulsed and forced out another heat wave, blasting smoldering ash into his mouth. " _Face me in his place!"_ he demanded, baring his teeth, and for a moment, the only sound was the flames flickering in his ears.

Ikkaku laughed lowly then, "Ha… Ha-ha… hahaha _haha!"_ He held the blade aloft then, looking Renji in the eye as he licked the side of it, Ichigo's blood lit up by the light of the flames. "That's just what I wanna' hear."

His vision went fuzzy for a minute then as his heart pounded hard in his ears. No, he couldn't handle this. Ichigo's blood decorating the blade… beading on… beading on his killer's tongue. Ichigo's… on… Ikkaku licked his lips. Something just snapped inside of Renji.

Renji screamed, the heat skyrocketing as for one moment he was in pure _agony_. He felt like he'd brought a fragment of hell's deepest pits to the top of the mountain. He'd never known someone could want vengeance so badly, to _hurt_ someone so _badly!_ How _dare_ he? Oh, he would pay for this.

His tattoos heated up, glowing like lava as he lunged for Ikkaku, grabbing the blade with both hands as Ikkaku blocked. Try as he might, he couldn't melt the metal down, ducking and parrying, pressing Ikkaku hard to the edge of the cliff, his back flat against the mountain. Ikkaku found a foothold and jumped upwards, climbing away and staying there, glancing down at him as he took a breather.

"Whew," Ikkaku said, wiping his forehead of sweat, "You're pretty good!" Renji roared, a pillar of flame blasting upwards as he screamed in absolute fury. Ikkaku backed up for a moment to avoid it, leaning back over afterwards to look down at him.

"You killed him!" Renji raged, pacing underneath, feeling magma bubbling down his face as his body caught fire. "He's _dead!_ "he stressed, howling and bereaving Ichigo's loss of life as molten glop dripped off his limbs, hardening and giving him black scaly patches on his skin.

"Why are you fighting like this, anyway? What is it worth? What's done is done. This was destined to happen the moment someone unworthy picked up this sword. It's fate," Ikkaku said lowly, and suddenly they both were blasted by a rough pulse of energy, Ikkaku having to jump for it rather than being thrown down hard. To their utter surprise, the sword flipped out of Ikkaku's hands, those hands that would sooner be dismembered than release that handle. All the same, in a high arc, end over end, the sword clattered to the ground and skittered into the distance, sliding towards the cliff-edge.

They both shared a look, Renji's human form returning for a few moments, before they both ran for it, trying to get it first, but before they could, they fell back, shielding their eyes as they heard something big coming. The light was blinding, and when it finally ceased, their hearts froze, hearing something thick and heavy dragging over the rock.

Ikkaku crawled forward through the fading light, getting a grip on the handle and standing up, holding the blade out one way, then the other. It was coming for him, and he wanted to be ready. He'd waited five hundred years for this.

"I knew it wasn't you," Ikkaku said with a grin, not even looking at Renji as he said it. "The real one comes now. Don't get in my way."

Renji's motivation and rage went cold as he lost the will to even stand up straight, much less pay attention to the behemoth that was surely coming. He wailed in sorrow, falling to his knees next to Ichigo's corpse, his shoulders shaking from hard sobs. The grief he felt was insane, his voice wrenched with absolute loss.

Feeling tremors building up beneath his feet, Ikkaku merely smiled when he realized what was coming. Sure enough, there it was, crawling around the side of the mountain, bigger than he'd ever dreamed. Oh, he'd yearned for this. Once and for all, he'd have a good fight and prove to the world that he was the only one powerful enough to keep a sword like this on his belt.

Renji wept, forehead pressed to the ground as he knelt in front of Ichigo, who had bled to death, eyes open and still, skin pale.

He'd known, he'd dreaded it every step of the way up to the top of this damned mountain that Ichigo would find that sword to try to break his curse. He'd never thought he would survive though. He'd known it deep in his gut that one way or another, it would be Ichigo's death.

Either Ichigo would've become a fire-child like him, died swallowed up by blackness like his fallen comrades, or by some miracle, he would've be equally worthy as the owner to pick up that sword, and then a multitude of things could've gone wrong.

He could've been unable to let it go, he could've gone mad with power like the warrior before him, or… or maybe Ichigo's good side would've come out on top and he would've been able to carry out his final wish of destroying the damn thing.

But a yoto blade was a yoto blade, and they thirsted for the deaths of an unworthy master. The slightest opening, the slightest possibility that the owner wasn't up to par to give it the bloodshed it required, and it would strike. Ichigo had died holding the sword in his own gut, all because he'd lost sight of his true intentions, his pure heart, for just a _moment._

Blood finally welled up in Ichigo's mouth like crimson velvet, bubbling over the edges and down the side of his face. Renji closed Ichigo's unseeing eyes, searing the skin as his fingers shook, glowing orange.

Ichigo had been so young, so beautiful, and Renji understood why the first snow of winter was as precious as it was now. It was ethereal, and ethereal things don't last forever. The world _wasn't_ too cruel to put that to an end, and it never had been. It had seemed too soon, all the same.

He'd just been so young…

"You…" Renji said, voice cracking as the sorrow fled again, everything washed away by rage. He became hotter than ever before, enough that he could see his own hands melting away. " _You'll pay for this!"_

* * *

"You've harmed an innocent," it hissed, clawing its way towards him, great and scaly, long-toothed and grinning madly at him with one reptilian golden eye. It could probably swallow him in two bites.

Ikkaku held the sword aloft, clearly feeling how empty it had become once the guardian had revealed itself. "Aye, I have!" he replied, lowering into a battle stance, hitting it in the snout hard when it snapped for him and tried to nab his leg. It was going to eat him alive! "He's not exactly pure, though, is he? That's not innocent by my standards!"

"Hmmm, by your standards," it growled deeply, voice sly and oily, like wet gravel. "If we're playing that game, the entire world is innocent when compared against you. The power to slay innocents... You'll need to prove that you're worthy of it." It raised a great foot and slammed it down nearby, and Ikkaku just barely skidded out of the way, seeing its claws digging into the rock like it was nothing.

Ikkaku grinned. This would be one hell of a fight, between that magma beast behind him and the dragon that was supposedly part of his own soul.

Its voice took on a diplomatic better-than-you drawl as Ikkaku came at it, stabbing hard and slicing over and over, but it simply stomped on him, claws tightening as its massive foot bore down on him.

Ikkaku shouted, but was cut off, vision going white as a talon pressed at his neck, but with all the strength he could manage, he swiped at its ankle with the back of the sword, whacking it hard enough that it let go in surprise. He dragged himself backwards, scrambling to his feet and nearly falling over again as oxygenated blood ran through him again in one swoop. Damn, that had gotten him woozy, but the rush of adrenaline did wonders for his aching muscles. He felt like he was on top of the world.

It lowered down like a big cat waiting to pounce, tail lashing against the mountainside. "Look at you writhe like a miserable worm. You shall never raise a sword again when I'm done with you. It was enough that you used the sword for opponents who challenged you blade to blade, but you coerced this one into a fight. You have harmed an innocent, and there is only one way to deal with you now. It's the ultimate justice. An eye for an eye."

Ikkaku dodged both blasts of fire, one from the dragon's mouth, another as a burning figure dove for him and missed, rolling easily and turning, coming at him again. "Not if I get him first!" Renji shouted, voice manic and enraged.

Ikkaku laughed and blocked, whipping around and jumping when the dragon's maw came at him, landing on the bridge of its nose and kicking it in the eye. It howled, and he laughed in triumph, but the grin was wiped off his face when its tongue wrapped around his ankle, pink and sticky, dragging him right into its mouth.

He screamed as it closed its jaws and sucked hard, chomping on him once and spitting him out hard, leaving big puncture wounds all down his side, one even in his face. He was lucky it had missed his vitals, especially his eye and ear. Peeling himself off the ground with a groan, he howled in offense and flicked dragon spit off his face. It came at him again, and Ikkaku blocked its snapping jaws, catching the blade on its teeth and pushing its face back with his foot.

"If you know a thing about this world, it's that justice never prevails!" Ikkaku shouted, dodging as Renji grabbed at him, lava spreading in a pool around them, coating the dragon's ankles, not bothering it in the least. Ikkaku jumped onto its back before he could be melted alive.

Renji was so pissed off that his aim was shot to hell, but who cared about aim when you were up against the full destructive power of the human embodiment of a volcano? His skin was glowing like a living ember, his eyes so hot that they were yellowish white, while his body was steadily turning into a molten mass of glop, hardly human anymore except for his four limbs. Ikkaku was starting to become concerned about that, not knowing how he could get close enough to attack _lava._ Even from this distance, he was getting burns.

"Maybe it's not fair," Ikkaku continued, holding on tight with both legs as he stabbed the dragon's leathery back with all his might, the blade just shunting off to the side when the dragon writhed and tried to toss him off. To Ikkaku's dread, it rolled against the mountainside, but he held on, getting squashed. "But that's life," he croaked, eyes bugging out at the creature's tremendous weight. His lungs had felt like they'd gone completely flat, maybe cracking a rib or two.

"What matters is strong and weak," he rasped as he climbed up its swinging neck, holding onto its spines tightly, "In a thousand years, no one has been stronger than me! No one could be more worthy!" he shouted desperately, sounding less sure of himself as he met one of its large yellow eyes, seeing the dark slit flick to him as it paused in trying to throw him off. Renji raged beneath them, hurling a fireball that was blocked when the creature unfurled a wing and gave Ikkaku the most terrifying smile he'd ever seen. He hadn't known that an animal _could_ smile, but it surely was. It looked delightfully smug.

"That boy."

Ikkaku paused then, hand loosening around the hilt of the sword as he shook his head, truly stunned. "Him?" he heard himself say dully, the sheer heat of the lava around him making him light headed, skin turning red, scalding slowly. "If he were worthy," he gave a breathless humorless laugh, "why did I defeat him in battle with no weapon?!" He felt betrayed. How could his sword, _his_ dragon think that someone else was more worthy than he? "It's clear who the strongest is!"

"Ha," it laughed lowly. "You always were the fool," it chuckled, and Ikkaku howled in rage, leaping and bringing the blade down, which bounced harmlessly off the dragon's skin. "He has something that you do not, can your conceited mind not see that?"

Ikkaku ran along a small ledge, hopping down, struggling to find an area of the mountain that hadn't been swallowed by that lava-man's grief just yet. He dove to the side, dodging a massive ball of flame. He needed solid ground to fight; he needed time to think even if he didn't want to. No, all he knew how to do was fight and never run.

The doubt was starting to creep into his mind now. Was there really something he'd overlooked, that Ichigo might have that he didn't? Something that made him a more worthy warrior? He'd thought that the boy wasn't worthy to pick up the sword because of his sheep-nature, but he'd been wrong about that. Had he been wrong about this too?

How could it be? What did he have that was so great? Ikkaku didn't understand and it was driving him crazy now. It must be a certain way that the boy fought, something small that gave him the slightest advantage. He didn't know what it could be, since he'd _beaten_ Ichigo! He wasn't _better_ , right?

Ikkaku tried to think back to how that kid fought. He'd missed opportunities, sometimes on purpose, he left himself wide open for attacks, and he didn't use the sharp side of the blade until damn near the end. Ichigo had fought him without drawing blood for the most part, because he knew that Ikkaku had no weapon. Even enraged beyond measure and determined to get vengeance and peace for his lover – which was presumably this lava guy – Ichigo still wouldn't cut him in the beginning until it was clear that he _had_ to.

Was that what it was? Ichigo was honorable and he wasn't?

It wasn't like Ikkaku killed children or women or men or _anyone_ who didn't challenge him straight out, weapon or not. He wasn't some cold-hearted murderer. Killing someone right out like that when they weren't going to fight back was unsatisfying.

Sure, Ikkaku had no problem with senseless killing if it furthered his goals, but that didn't mean he did it for no reason. Ichigo, however, had acted completely ridiculous. What was the point of being pure of heart and fighting honorably if it got you killed? It made you a _wimp_. It made you abandon your will to survive! How was _that_ a strength?

Ikkaku puzzled over this, the sword feeling so light and empty in his hand that it was like he wasn't even holding it.

Maybe it was because Ichigo hadn't abandoned his ideals even in the face of death. Ichigo may not have been a pacifist, but he certainly hadn't wanted to kill Ikkaku. Even at the point of being almost hurled over the cliffside, he wouldn't cut Ikkaku. He would've let himself die before breaking away from his principles. Of course, he'd been intending on cutting Ikkaku in the end, and he'd come close, but that was only because he'd been forced into it when Ikkaku made it clear that Ichigo either had to kill him or be killed. Ichigo had done that out of desperation, out of love for his family and that lover of his, not to save his own life. Ichigo didn't abandon his aesthetic unless it came to the cut and dry. Ikkaku had to wonder… had _he_ had a code of honor once?

So if it wasn't _how_ Ichigo had been fighting, it must have something to do with _why_ he'd been fighting.

Fighting for a lover? Fighting for others would make you weak, because if they were suddenly gone, then where would your motivation come from? It was better to fight for yourself, never mind if your intentions were pure. All that mattered was winning or losing, living or dying, not the people... you left... behind.

Huh.

Surely, that wasn't it. This boy had lost so easily. Why would anyone miss someone who fought so poorly? What could it be, then? What else, what quality did this boy have that made him deserving or the sword? What did that boy have that he didn't?

He'd lived a half-thousand years and had the wisdom of a thousand battles, he'd been deemed fit to survive through the ages, he'd been made legend, he'd been remembered for generations. He had lived with the sword longer, he knew how to handle it, to wield it, to control it, and that boy didn't. He had more knowledge, more power, more skill.

What could that boy possibly have? It was hurting his brain.

It couldn't be that lover that he'd been doing this for, it couldn't be, because that was why he'd doubted, why he'd hesitated, why he'd _lost_. Caring too much made a person weak. Ikkaku couldn't see what else that kid had that he didn't.

He wanted to know so bad. He had to become a better fighter, the most worthy. He had to ask that kid what it was, what his secret was, but he couldn't. He was dead. He'd killed him. It was too late, and he'd never know.

 _"What could it be?!"_ he raged, watching lava slide slowly down the mountainside, some of those gorgeous flowers catching spontaneous flame, the trunk somehow withstanding the sheer heat.

"If you only had a single drop of love in your blood, then maybe you'd understand," he could hear the dragon chuckle as if it were right next to him. He suddenly looked down at the sword in his hand, and then up again as he head a heavy foot break the rock. But, the voice had come from-

"Did you never wonder how you awoke?" it snapped as it came to face him, rearing up on its hind legs for a moment and bringing its full body weight down, cracking the ground beneath them and sending Ikkaku flying, cutting off his train of thought. "Do you not wonder who would miss you when you go?!"

Ikkaku lay dazed in a pile of rock, picking his limbs up and spitting blood, trying to find the strength to stand. Backing up against the trunk of that magnolia tree, using it to push himself up, his arms hung heavy as he panted, sweat rolling down his brow. It seemed like something was stopping the lava from making it to its base, a large ring still clear around it, almost like a barrier.

"Why would anyone miss me?" He held up the sword at arm's length, pointing it at the dragon's face as it crawled down the side of the mountain cave, eyes honing in on him.

"Therein lies the problem."

Hacking up blood, Ikkaku took a shaky step forward, grinning widely. The dragon's eyes narrowed and it charged at him, and Ikkaku met its teeth with a powerful clang of steel, locked in a stare with it as it pushed against him, digging him back when his heels couldn't find traction.

Ikkaku gave a laugh, blood running into his eyes as his burnt arms gave a throb when his muscles tensed. He'd long since learned to embrace pain to the point that he hardly noticed it. Severe wounds like these were no concern; they've seen nothing yet. He'd locked his arms tightly against the press of the dragon's mouth, and they wouldn't give until the bones snapped. To his horror, he leapt out of the way when the dragon took advantage of his refusal to break their lock and gathered flame in its throat, ready to shoot it right on him.

A heavy blast went right past him, searing the skin on his ears. He dove to the ground, hitting it hard, leaving foot long skids on both already wrecked forearms. He crawled awkwardly, pushing to his feet and whipping around when it came for him again, its jaws snapping hard.

He let out a hiss through his teeth and then held the hilt with both hands, running straight up to it and roaring, leaping in the air and bringing the blade down right as it snapped for him, slicing its eye open, blood splattering him up and down, gruesomely.

It howled in pain, claws hitting the rock with bruising force, tail thrashing and sending him flying. He hit the ground hard, spine having made a cracking sound, and he lay there for a moment, sounds distant and vision numb.

The pain was unbearable, but he just bit his tongue hard and kept his lower body still, turning his torso up and to the side as far as he could, hearing pops going off in tandem all the way up his spine, as the vertebrae pinching his nerves went back into place.

He coughed, looking up to see what had happened, gasping and diving to the side just in time.

With a powerful swipe of the writhing dragon's tail, the mountainside shattered, sending rocks tumbling into the abyss. It hissed at him, taking a step back, and Ikkaku saw its hind foot come down near the limp body of that dead boy, sending it sliding and skittering over the edge with the rocks and into the blaze, immediately swallowed by lava.

For one moment, everything was noticeably silent, and Ikkaku's eyes flicked to the fire child that had promptly burnt out; his eyes were wide and his were hands clutching his chest as he watched his only love's body melt away within the boiling vat of lava, _his_ lava. He watched a tear silently drip off his face and hit the ground with a hiss.

Then, with an ear-splitting scream, Renji seemed to explode, the last semblance of humanity fleeing his body.

* * *

 _Would you ever walk with me on the surface of the violent sun?_


	7. Chapter 7

_Just gonna' stand there and watch me burn._

* * *

"Oh my God," Yumichika whispered, hand over his mouth. The whole mountain… the whole mountain was aflame. Had it been a volcano all along? The dragon appearing had been shock enough, but what _was_ that?

He'd gone closer for a better view and to avoid the lava that may eventually reach him, fighting his way through thorn bushes and to the top of the tallest tree. The thrill of danger kept him hanging on tight with his legs so he could keep his head above the leaves.

Whoever had gone up there was long dead. Lava was pouring down the mountainside, but what really got him was that magnolia tree.

Its flowers were burning bright and proud, but it would only a matter of time before it went out.

* * *

When Ichigo's body was swallowed up by the lava, the north side of the mountain burst in a violent conflagration as Renji screamed at the top of his lungs, voice taking on two tones - one fearsomely deep, the other practically popping Ikkaku's ear drums from the sheer decibel force.

Ikkaku couldn't close his eyes, watching helplessly as the man writhed and shrieked in agony, the bones in his back contorting as he went through a horrifying transformation. He melted and collapsed to his knees, skin turning a dark reddish orange, hair running forward over his face and adding to the nondescript mass of lava.

When it rose, Ikkaku's breath was taken away as he saw just what had turned on the dragon and was beating it back, fire against fire. Had Ichigo lived to see another day, he would've been beyond stunned. Renji had never been a dragon at all. It was rather fitting, really, the idea of eternal life…

A pheonix.

The final blast of fire that had come from the dragon's jaws, missing Ikkaku, had hit the magnolia tree full force, and it was going up in flames now, the entire thing caught and burning within minutes. Ikkaku watched in horror as tall branches began falling, the flowers curling and turning black alarmingly quickly. Something inside him began blaring at the wrongness of it.

The great fiery bird shrieked, digging its claws into the dragon's back, magma pouring from its eyes, and to Ikkaku, it still looked frighteningly human. He couldn't look away, some part of his brain carving the image into the inside of his skull. The force of its grief was collosal, and it was all Ikkaku could do to avoid being washed away as it burned the mountain, clawing over it and scrambling for fresh air. He was being cooked.

It wasn't paying attention to him now, as if it had pinned the blame of Ichigo's death upon the dragon now, and for the first time in his life, Ikkaku felt inconsequential during a fight, taking refuge in the collapsing cave on the mountain's peak, lava sliding by the entrance sluggishly.

There was horrible wretched beauty in watching the two fight, but it seemed that they were getting nowhere, destroying everything except themselves. At first the dragon had seemed bigger by far, but the molten bird kept building and building, larger and larger, until when it spread its wings they were a sick imitation of a waterfall, super-heated sludge melting the surroundings with ease.

The dragon snapped and writhed, having to turn its one-eyed head in its direction constantly so it could keep its adversary in its sites. The great bird hissed, clawing hard and sending them sliding down the mountain, the dragon tumbling further and flattening an area of forest.

Ikkaku struggled to climb to high ground when the cave all but buried him in. It would only be a matter of time until there was nowhere for him to go. He'd be standing atop the carnage soon. God, but it was beautiful up here, watching them.

For one horrible moment, his heart stopped when the dragon bit down hard on the bird's body, shaking it violently and sending it flying hard into the mountainside, wobbling the whole thing so roughly that Ikkaku had trouble keeping his footing. When he saw it coughing and wiping its tongue in the grass, he realized it had spit it out. Must've been too chewy. Too hot more like it.

This was his battle, he knew. He was meant to kill the dragon and claim the sword for himself, he was meant to slay the man who had taken up his lover's wish of gaining the sword for himself, but the both of them had turned on each other and were leaving him out of it.

Hatred was thick in the air, and as the bird rose up the side of the mountain behind him, Ikkaku's heart quickened as it grew and grew, jaws opening in front of him, everything made entirely of flame. He swore loudly, nearly pissing himself when the dragon came crashing into it, claws latching onto it as it bit down hard on its neck, sending them hurling downwards.

With an incredulous laugh, Ikkaku just stood there watching. The exhilaration was overwhelming as he dodged the falling rocks, struggling to keep his footing. He was more alive now than he'd ever been.

This was why he fought. This feeling right here.

The lava was hardening and turning black, still far too hot to touch, but the bird set the blaze anew, wrapping the mountain up like a volcano. Ikkaku decided he'd had enough and set off running towards the far side of the mountain, taking a running leap and landing heavily.

He skidded under their legs and stabbed as he could, trying to pierce the dragon's tough underbelly. Even here, it was armored. No luck. He scrambled out from under it before he could be trampled or laid upon.

He couldn't cut this thing. Frowning in distress, Ikkaku hacked at its side, but was ignored in favor of the lava-beast. To his confusion, the magma wasn't doing anything to this dragon either. He had to imagine that against those thick scales, lava felt only pleasantly warm. He didn't know how to hurt it. He was going to die if he stuck around here. Scrambling away again, he rested on a large rock, panting. His entire body tingled with dread. Fire on fire - these two would fight for eternity if they kept it up one on one.

The dragon rolled on its back with a shriek, having been knocked onto its side, and Ikkaku flinched hard, guarding himself with his arm as the heat became too much to bear.

Opening his eye in response to a shrieking noise and a blast of scorching heat, to Ikkaku's surprise and amazement, the phoenix had paused in front of him, bowing its back as it hissed at the dragon. Not wasting a moment, Ikkaku leaped from his seat atop of an unscathed boulder and landed heavily between its shoulder blades, gripping onto the feathers without causing or receiving pain.

The dragon took off, unfolding its leathery wings and raking the mountainside with fiery breath as Ikkaku held on tight to the phoenix's back when its wings and body went molten, dragging upwards like a snake to the very top of the mountain, building up and spreading its wings open in great gaping streams of lava. Ikkaku didn't feel a thing when it lifted off.

He didn't know how to kill this thing. The lava hadn't hurt the dragon a bit, and his sword wasn't sharp enough to cut it. He'd been able to cut its eye, but that hadn't even been close to a mortal wound. Perhaps he could blind it, but that would make it more dangerous, especially if he didn't know how to kill it. They were going to die. No, _he_ was, and every human in the vicinity. These two would burn the world to ashes. It would be Pompeii all over again.

Feeling each powerful thrust of its wings beneath his feet, Ikkaku held on hard with one hand, telling it that it had better know what it was doing. One look in its melting eyes, and Ikkaku knew that if he didn't make it, this thing would still have that dragon's head, even if that took eternity.

He grinned wickedly, getting ready as they flew straight for the great lizard. He ducked down hastily when its fiery breath shot over his head. " _Shit!"_ he swore, jumping for the ground when they were nearly knocked out of the sky. The bird hit the mountainside hard, laying there motionless before it finally moved, sluggish and weak.

The dragon was furious then, devolving into snarling and spitting, and Ikkaku dodged over and over, crawling and leaping away as it snapped for him, forcing him onto the edge of the cliff. It was too hot to breathe, and Ikkaku was panting hard, trying to think of how to end this.

He held his breath tightly, putting his foot out on a ledge, inching his way over, seeing the beast clawing its way after him. When the edges of its jaws turned orange, ready to roast him alive, he jumped, leaping away and landing on the rocky ground, rolling. He could feel himself roasting. The air was too charged, too hot to breathe in. It was hurting his nose and throat, hurting his lungs.

He was running out of energy then, blocking and dodging, rolling out of the way and just barely managing to escape its teeth over and over again as it lunged continuously. Suddenly, the phoenix was on its back, claws digging hotly into its shoulder blades, but still not succeeding in piercing the skin as it breathed an unbelievable amount of fire in a continuous stream over its body, distracting it long enough that Ikkaku could scramble away.

As the dragon whipped around to face its foe, Ikkaku saw an opening. Did he dare? He looked down at his precious sword, his dearest friend and swallowed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd won a fight without it, but maybe it was time for someone else to take his place. Maybe there had been something special about that boy if his death could cause something so beautiful and terrible as this.

He ran forward, rolling between the frantically stomping legs of the two as they grappled against each other. With a cry, he stabbed the flat of the beast's fleshy tail into the ground, releasing the sword.

He jumped as the beast howled and slammed against the side of the mountain, sending boulders tumbling down. Ikkaku was squashed once, leg left numb and nearly useless, but he managed to climb aboard its thrashing back, teeth rattling as he crawled towards up its neck. With a big leap, he landed on its head, slamming it down for a second, holding on as he was whipped around and hit against the wall.

The only other time the beast had been in pain was when he'd cut its eye, and other than that, when it had bitten the phoenix's burning body. It could breathe fire, but not contain it in its mouth. Its insides were sensitive.

Finally, he got his foot into the corner of its jaw and slid his arms between its great fangs, gripping hard and prying its mouth open. He screamed to tense up his entire body, using every ounce of strength he could muster as it crunched on his arms. "Now!" he shouted, prying the great mouth open just wide enough for the bird to blast lava down its throat.

He jumped to safety, watching the dragon become engulfed in a pool of magma, buried completely and dying. Panting hard, Ikkaku collapsed in exhaustion, the heat having gotten to his head long ago. He'd done it. It was dead…

He'd killed it fairly with his own two hands, he'd allowed someone to help him win, and it had gone away. The discord in his soul had been reconciled.

With a final thrash, the beast groaned, body sizzling as its tail sent the sword that had been stuck in it flying, hurling it hard into the wood of the still smoldering trunk of the only tree on the mountain, which crumbled to embers soon enough, leaving it in a smoking pile.

As soon as Ikkaku had the strength to stand, he limped over there, seeing the dragon's corpse fade in an overpowering burst of smoke, all sucking back into the sword at lightning speed, whooshing around his ankles.

The blade rattled and finally went still, a red serpent insignia shooting across the length like fire and then going black.

"Heh'," Ikkaku laughed in exhaustion, smirking. The rebellious bit of his soul had yielded; he would no longer know guilt or regret. Ikkaku wiped his forehead and picked up his weapon. He needed to find a sheath for this thing.

* * *

It was done, and immediately, there was nothing but emptiness. His body went limp and lifeless, drifting to the ground, shrinking all the time as the flames of rage softened into real feathers, blown away as soon as they went out and turned to ash.

He mourned as he molted, the curse having lifted completely. There was no fire left, not a single spark. It was over.

Weak and shaking all over, Renji looked at his hands, pale and sweating. As soon as the shock wore off, his lip quivered, and his eyes welled up with cold tears that spilled over and chilled his cheeks.

His hair had lost its red color, having gone a dark brown, and his tattoos were turning lighter and lighter all the time, nothing more than pink burn marks, pink scars. It had been so long since he had changed that he just sat there in a traumatized daze. He felt like a freak, even more so than when he'd first become a fire-demon. Who would love him now? He had nobody. He never wanted anyone to look at him again. He couldn't bear his own existence.

He cried quietly to himself for a moment, holding his bare chest and shaking violently. There was no physical pain, just a dull emptiness and an _ache_ that he couldn't force out. "Ichigo," he croaked, mourning, sitting there in a heap next to the hardening black lava rock, a mass of obsidian that would be a tomb until the mountain reached the sky. " _Ichigo!"_ he screamed, wailing and moaning, holding himself all over. Oh, it hurt so bad. How could anyone hurt this badly and still breathe?

He pitched forward, forehead grinding into the dirt as he punched the ground, screaming and sobbing into his forearm, shaking all over. He cried and cried until he was sure his throat was torn and bleeding, but he couldn't stop. He'd lost everything. He had nothing left.

' _I lost it all, but that was okay, that was okay with me. It was you that I couldn't stand to lose. It could've been anything in the world, but it was the thought of losing you that I couldn't live with.'_

Renji sobbed, a clear wet tear sparkling and dripping off his face, hitting the dust with a soft _pat,_ followed soon by more _._

Choking and sniffling, physically unable to stop blubbering now, Renji held both hands over his mouth, his breathing rapid and uncontrollable as he tried to reign it in. Tears dug sharp paths into his cheeks, raw and wet, dripping down his chin and nose as he sobbed.

Smoke filled his nose, and he coughed violently, feeling the wind caressing the mountain lightly as the sun came out of the clouds. Withered black blossoms were blown off the tree, along with a few pink ones that had somehow survived the heat. It was cruel for a day to be so beautiful when such tragedy had taken place.

Ash flakes were carried away on the wind, and looking out at the carnage, Renji's eye caught the cooling mass of black magma he'd been bereaving; it was turning soft and fluffy like old soot. No… No, even the place where Ichigo's corpse lay encased was blowing away. He wouldn't even have a place to feel like Ichigo was nearby!

' _No!'_ his heart cried as he watched in horror, breaths shaky and still breaking with weeping as the rock grew smaller, turning to ash and disintegrating.

One of the particles blew into his face, and he coughed, pulling it out of his mouth. Through his red aggravated eyes, raw from crying so much, he was confused to see that it was a feather, and looking up, he saw that thousands were blowing in the wind, emanating from the lava rock, which was rapidly diminishing.

Out of the dying corpse of his old form, the feathers came, shedding and blowing away, and as Renji crawled forward, sniffling, he saw something bright right between the bare bones of its ribs. It seemed golden in the sun at first glance, but as he pried the brittle bones apart, tears still dripping off his face, he immediately let go and fell back in shock. He shouted in surprise and turned around, hands over his head as he did a double take and kicked something, absolutely reeling.

Ichigo wiped his eyes and sat up sleepily, looking up to him in bleary confusion. He gave a big yawn, blinking a few times, and then smiled up at Renji, who just collapsed in his lap and howled.

* * *

The remnants of the magic were fading, even the cooling lava fluffing up in the air, so much so that it was blown away on the wind in puffy clouds of ash. Yumichika coughed violently, but noticed that the air was thinner, less oppressive. In all that mayhem, something big had happened.

The silence that occurred as the sun came out of the clouds was quite peaceful, and Yumichika's doubts lifted away. Ikkaku had done it. It was over... but at what expense?

He could hear a voice in the far distance, wails wrenched with pain and sorrow floating down the mountainside, but they soon ceased, and Yumichika made his way over the barrier where the last living grass had grown and over the tossed logs that had been flattened during the battle.

It took him nearly an hour to reach the bottom, and when he did, he could see someone trudging out of the smoke with a slight limp, waving the air and coughing. Yumichika brightened right up when he saw his love's face, grinning widely. "Ikkaku!" he called, running up to him and jumping on him, hugging him tightly as he forgot all about the anger of being abandoned. Ikkaku was alive and safe and he was here now. That was what mattered in that one moment.

Ikkaku grunted as Yumichika hit him full speed and squeezed him hard. "Oooh, easy," he hissed, but patted his back awkwardly with one arm as Yumichika hugged him. Oh, Yumichika had been so worried.

Yumichika was sure that he felt fingers brushing his back now, like they were considering returning the hug, and he had to wonder when the last time Ikkaku had been embraced had been. He almost seemed to fight against the idea that someone could do this to him, but Yumichika didn't care. He was so happy to see his face again. He'd been so sure that Ikkaku would come down that mountain a monster, but here he was, still walking on his two legs.

"You're okay!"

"Of course I am," Ikkaku said flatly, the inner battle of which persona would win teetering over the moment Yumichika spoke. Ikkaku pushed him back and walked past him coldly, not sparing him another glance, almost like he'd already forgotten that he'd been on the edge of returning his embrace and expressing gratitude that he was there to see his victory. It was immediately clear that this wasn't the same man who had lain in the grass with Yumichika last night. There was no love in his eyes, no warmth in his voice, nothing on his face but steely resolve.

Yumichika's heart stilled when his eyes honed in on the sword on his belt. Dark and glittering, incredibly beautiful and sharp, a dragon branded into the side, and encrusted with blood, some of it still _fresh_.

Yumichika swallowed hard, gut clenching up as he was seized with an urge to weep. He'd been too late.

That was okay though. He'd accepted the fact that he may never be Ikkaku's top priority and that he had other ambitions, and was that such a bad thing? As long as Ikkaku would let him follow him around, things wouldn't be so bad. As long as Ikkaku _acknowledged_ him, as long as he was okay with him being there, he'd be okay… but this Ikkaku, this one didn't have a care in the world for his existence. This one found no value in his company whatsoever.

Ikkaku limped away from him, not turning back once. He was an absolute mess, great gouges missing out of his upper arms, which were burnt so badly that he looked like cooked meat. His foot had been sliced, covered in cracking dried blood, and there was a litany of puncture wounds dotting his chest and one still bleeding in the hollow of his collarbone. He'd been beat up, burnt all over, but he seemed deeply satisfied, sated for what was sure to be only a few days before he sought out more opponents.

Yumichika's gut clenched harder, but he followed behind his exhausted warrior, grabbing the wrist that wasn't wrapped around the sword hilt. When Ikkaku didn't immediately turn on him and hold him at the point of the blade, Yumichika caught up. Ikkaku stopped walking and stood still, not turning to look at him, so Yumichika came in front of him, looking up to his face.

Even if Ikkaku didn't want him, that was okay. He could endure. He could forever bleed yet still live.

"I knew you were alive," he said, smiling softly, overjoyed, standing in front of him with such an expression of pride and happiness. Ikkaku's dark eyes flicked to his, and then his face finally broke into a weary fond smile.

"Of course I am," he repeated, voice warmer, taking his hand away from Yumichika's and walking on, letting Yumichika walk next to him now.

The tender moment only having lasted about a second or so, Yumichika would still use it to warm his heart for the next few years. Knowing Ikkaku wouldn't want him to fuss, but also seeing that his injuries were very severe, Yumichika walked near him, ready to grab his arm should he falter and stumble to his knees. The shock of the battle probably still hadn't worn off yet to let him really feel the full effects of his wounds.

"That looked like one hell of a fight," Yumichika said breathlessly, expecting Ikkaku to crack a wide grin, but to his surprise, he looked deadly serious.

"It's over. I am uncontested once again," he said soberly, patting the sword hilt. "Would you believe that some schmuck made it up there before me and almost took it? His honey was the guy who almost burned the mountain, but it doesn't matter now. They're dead." Ikkaku looked down at his blade. "It's accepted me as the worthy owner again now that I've returned, and the witch's curse has lifted. I no longer have to prove myself. It knows it belongs to me," he said, a sick grin finally twisting just the corner of his mouth as his eyes floated off.

Yumichika frowned. Who was Ikkaku really? His personality seemed to be jumping around. One minute he seemed to recognize Yumichika and warmly accept him, and another, he would seem to be off in a place where only he and the sword existed. The curse may have gone, but no one could deny that Ikkaku was ill, _very ill_.

"Why do you keep this?" Yumichika demanded to know, becoming distressed as he gestured to the sword, unwilling to touch it. Not only because Ikkaku may cut off his hand if he were to try, but because the blade itself made Yumichika skittish. The curse may be gone, but the blade had been imbued with evil magic long before that, and Yumichika knew better than to touch a yoto blade that didn't belong to him.

Ikkaku looked to him with a sharp glare, as if daring him to say more. Yumichika stood upright then, morally offended, voice choked. "After going through all that, you still keep it! Do you never learn?!"

"Hey, knock it off," Ikkaku spat, getting right back in his face to force him to back down. Yumichika meekly ducked his head, but glared heatedly back into his eyes. "After all that, of _course_ I keep it, or else what was it all for?" he growled, stalking off. Yumichika followed him, deeply troubled.

Worthy of the sword or not, Ikkaku was going right back to his old ways. This wasn't the man the sorceress had wanted him to become. She'd wanted him to change for the better, and Yumichika had failed her, failed _himself_.

More than ever now, he believed that he was in love. He'd fallen in love even though it was all horribly wrong. How else could it hurt so badly?

"To show you that there's more to life than your own pleasure! The sword was yours all along, don't you see that? It was waiting for you! _If you could just learn to care about living things again, you could've taken the sword back whenever you wanted!"_ Yumichika screeched, raging at his retreating back. "I heard what you said! You _killed_ someone with a lover! Have you learned nothing from what happened with that sorceress?"

"I was in the right. He was taking what was rightfully mine and so was that boy."

"Was he, though? Or were you just afraid that the blasted thing finally found someone worthier than you? Do you see what his lover did to the mountain in pure grief? That boy was a wonderful person for someone to care so much for him, and you took that away just to protect your title. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"What kind of man would I be if I let some punk take my sword?"

"That's all you think about! Don't you have even a drop of love in your veins? What _are_ you?!"

Ikkaku stopped dead, turning to him with wide eyes, seeming panicked for one moment, before he shook himself out of it.

"Relying on other people is the surest way to take on a crutch," Ikkaku said, glaring hard and turning away as if Yumichika talked only nonsense.

"You had to rely on me, didn't you?!" Yumichika shouted, clutching his chest and chasing after him. "Even once, did you even acknowledge my presence when you woke up?"

"I mean, yeah, you were there, but-"

Yumichika howled in rage. It was clear that Ikkaku still hadn't put two and two together about the kiss, and Yumichika still didn't have the heart or bravery to tell him. Why couldn't he just… Why couldn't things just work out easily?! Like they were _meant_ to? Why did everything have to turn out so ugly?

"You woke up and told me your name, doesn't that mean something?!"

"I only tell my name to those I will kill," Ikkaku finally snarled, grabbing him by the collar. Yumichika didn't back down, lip quivering.

"Then why, _why me?!"_

Ikkaku shoved him away, "I didn't tell you to follow me, anyway, don't ask me."

Yumichika sat there on the ground in a heap at his feet, Ikkaku staring down in what seemed like second-hand embarrassment for his sorrow. "Hey, cut that out," he urged, nudging Yumichika with his foot and kicking him when he wouldn't stop sulking.

"Didn't you once… Didn't you once think of how I would feel when I woke up to find you had left me there alone?" Ikkaku scratched the back of his neck then. "Even one time?"

"You knew from the beginning that I had a mission that you wouldn't get in the way of," he said dully, not meeting his eyes. Yumichika jumped to his feet then, seizing Ikkaku by the collar and shaking him.

"I accepted that though," he said, shaking his head, "I accepted all of that. I never once tried to stop you! I was going to come with you, so that when you became the best, I would be there! You wouldn't give up a single thing for me, but I would've given up everything I had for you! Don't you care about _that?!"_ Ikkaku struck him then, swiftly, in the face, so hard that Yumichika's neck cracked, head whipping to the side.

His eyes were cold and dark then, boring into Yumichika's skull. They remained that way for a long time, Yumichika holding his cheek in betrayal and Ikkaku glaring at him with the eyes of a demon. There had been an unspoken trust between them, and Yumichika had felt it keenly as if Ikkaku really had said it aloud to him. ' _I will never hurt you, but if I believe you're in the way of my goal for even a second, I will not hold back.'_

"I must search for an opponent once again," he said finally, and Yumichika's eyes flicked down bitterly. He had failed after all.

"The curse has lifted, but there is an older enchantment on this blade that I cannot ignore," Ikkaku continued, hand running along its hilt more lovingly that Yumichika had thought he could ever touch anything. "Only someone of my age could tolerate it. It cannot be in anyone's hands but mine, or it will begin calling for me again. If you came along with me, wishing secretly for me to falter… No."

Yumichika's eyes were wet as Ikkaku stepped around him. He didn't want this to be the end. He grabbed Ikkaku's wrist and stopped him, not even earning a backward glance. He understood. The sword had destroyed what little trust had built between them. Ikkaku would always have the fear that if he went to sleep, Yumichika would take the sword and cut his throat. Not only that, he couldn't have someone who loved him and wanted a different life for him following him around. It was in the way of his goals, and Ikkaku would never risk his ultimate ambition.

Still, curling his fingers around the skin lightly, Yumichika held him back. "When you become the best… I should be proud," he repeated, seeing Ikkaku turn slightly, head tilting down so he could look at him out of the very corner of his eye.

"Once you're on your throne," Yumichika said, sniffing once before his tears could fall. Strength, he told himself, "You just call, and I'll be there."

Ikkaku was silent for a moment, before nodding, acknowledging it before turning his head away again. Yumichika's hand tightened around his wrist for a moment in hope. "It's not too late, right?... For us?"

Hadn't the love been real, just a little bit?

Ikkaku withdrew from his grasp as easily as breathing, and Yumichika could feel a heel grinding his heart into the ground. With a knowing gaze, Ikkaku turned on him, eyes flat and pitying, but resolved. "It was you, wasn't it?" Yumichika looked to him in confusion, blinking rapidly. "You're the reason I woke up. You could've tamed my heart."

"…" Yumichika was silent, swallowing hard and looking down. He didn't know what little tells he'd been dropping, but Ikkaku had picked it up somewhere, maybe earlier on when he had said that thing about love in his veins.

He was sure that it had been a true love kiss, because _he_ had fallen in love, but Ikkaku hadn't. Maybe there was such a thing as incompatible soulmates, because as much as it hurt, Yumichika didn't want anyone else, even if it meant following soundlessly for all eternity. Ikkaku was his true love, but not the other way around.

The point was, he never had been able to change Ikkaku's heart, and hoping that he could wasn't the same as being able.

"Well, this may be news to you," Ikkaku said with a detached voice, "but I don't agree. I thank you for the wake-up call, but fare thee well."

And just like that Yumichika's heart was obliterated, leaving an endless winter inside. He felt nothing, watching Ikkaku turn to go, walking away from him. This time he didn't follow, watching Ikkaku raise a hand without turning around.

"Mata au hi made!"

Yumichika smiled a little, numbly. That bastard was going to try his hardest to become the best. The next time they met, he would be the greatest in the world.

The problem was, Yumichika no longer cared. He would not spend the rest of his life waiting for that day. A heart like his could only break in bitterness so many times until he gave up on it and let it fall apart. It was so much easier than trying to hold it together. He'd been rejected one too many times in his life, and this was the point where he gave up on himself. No, he would not wait for Ikkaku. He had his own dreams.

Looking down at his hands, he ran through a mental map, trying to remember exactly where he'd been when he…

Yes, it would still be there. His own weapon.

He smiled sourly and then bit all of his nails off on the way home. He wouldn't be able to hold a sword if they stayed long.

* * *

 _I will find my brothers, by the sword, I swear._


	8. Chapter 8

_Is there a chance, a fragment of light at the end of the tunnel, a reason to fight, is there a chance you may change your mind, or are we ashes and wine?_

 _..._

 _Ichigo wiped his eyes and sat up sleepily, looking up to Renji in confusion. He gave a big yawn, blinking a few times, not seeming to recognize him for a moment. Renji was pale and clammy, having seen a ghost, still with his fingers clamped over his mouth._

" _Heh'," Ichigo chuckled, brushing fluffy down off his arms, feathers ruffling out of his hair. "Look at you," he said proudly, gesturing to Renji's new human appearance. "The spell broke!"_

 _Renji gave some short quick breaths, head swimming as Ichigo stretched his arms and yawned again, the sun lighting him up with all that youthful beauty that had made Renji fall for him. He'd been brought back to life._

 _Ichigo smacked his lips, finally smiling up at Renji, who fell into his arms in the biggest hug the world had ever known._

* * *

"Renji-ni! Ichi-ni! It's breakfast ti-"

"Oi, morons! Are you up yet?!"

"Aw, pipe down," Ichigo groaned privately into his hay-filled pillow, sweating above the blankets in the heat of the summer morning. Renji lay sprawled next to him in bed, still off in dreamland, long legs hanging off the end of the straw-stuffed mattress.

Ichigo sat up, putting a shirt on and opening the shutters so the morning light could grace the room, and more importantly, Renji's skin.

Giving a big cranky yawn, Ichigo became more docile as he got ready for the day, letting Renji sleep a little longer so he could admire him, the big lug. Renji was even shyer about his appearance than he'd been before, but Ichigo found him more beautiful than ever. The exotic red that he'd loved so much was replaced with a plain dark brown, but Ichigo thought it suited Renji just fine. Those pink scars would likely never fade, and were sensitive to the touch, but Ichigo loved those too. He liked to think they were a symbol of Renji's love for him, as if he'd given up the last of his powers to bring him back to life.

It was as if he'd never closed his eyes for even a moment. Ichigo was sure he'd been asleep for a while, or _dead_ , but he didn't remember. He'd still been laying there stunned, realizing that he was holding the yoto blade in his own stomach just like many before him surely had, and the next thing he knew, it had been lights out. When he'd awoken, Renji had been there, eyes pink and leaky, more human than he'd ever expected him to be. Ichigo's body had felt fresh and new, even his stab wound gone. There was no pain anywhere, there was no tension, no anguish. One look in Renji's eyes, which were a dark rich brown now instead of glowing red, and Ichigo knew that the spell had broken.

Renji had told him bitterly that the sword had never been destroyed, holding him tightly and selfishly, and Ichigo believed him, but fact was fact. The curse had lifted. Ichigo may not have been the one to break the spell, but the end result was what he'd wanted, and that was what mattered. Renji didn't feel the same way. Renji was unforgiving of the whole incident, but Ichigo bore no grudge, strangely enough. He felt lighter, happier, even.

Renji had urged Ichigo to rest, but Ichigo insisted that he'd never felt better, and then they'd strolled down the mountain together through the fluttering ash flakes, making it home the following night.

Apparently there had been a mass panic, and when Ichigo had come home, Yuzu had broken into tears, telling him that she'd been so scared. What Ichigo was concerned with was whether they were both okay, and that so was their home. It was, and the girls were fine too. More importantly, Ichigo had heard from them that his father had taken a turn for the worse in his absence, but he seemed to be brightening up now that he'd returned.

Ichigo had introduced Renji when the girls finally got around to asking, and he'd put his foot down on the matter that Renji was going to be staying here with them, not that anyone even thought of arguing. He mostly did it to reassure Renji that no matter what, he would absolutely not be made to leave, that Ichigo wouldn't allow it. Sometimes Renji wasn't very confident about his acceptance into the family, but they proved over and over that he belonged and that they wanted him. Isshin had even taken to calling him 'son' as well, as if he somehow knew about their relationship. Ichigo pinned it on delirium.

A few months had passed since then, and they suspected that some people knew just what Renji was, or had been, because let's face it, Ichigo had gone up to kill the dragon, and had come back with this guy. Because of his many years of living in seclusion, Renji was extremely shy and skittish around strangers, not wanting to go anywhere without Ichigo there with him, and he often went mute from anxiety when questions were directed at him. However, no one was cruel to him, since he did good work, and everyone took Ichigo at his word that Renji was trustworthy and didn't argue when he said that Renji wasn't going anywhere. Anyone with a problem with that would have to answer to him.

"Ichi-nii, You awake?" Karin called again, less harshly, knocking on their door and sticking her head in, pulling back when she saw Renji sitting up and yawning, shirtless. "It's time to get going," she said, walking off when Ichigo let her know he'd be right there.

Renji mumbled a sleepy 'good morning' to him, shuffling around and nosing through their single chest of drawers, putting something on that had been donated by their dad. None of Ichigo's clothes would fit Renji, whose chest and shoulders were considerably broader.

"Oi, you okay to cart those saplings by yourself?" Ichigo asked, walking out into the kitchen and scarfing down some oatmeal, pecking Yuzu on the head in thanks when Renji followed after and joined them. Yuzu put a bowl in front of him and Renji ducked his head shyly when she patted his shoulder nicely. He was still getting used to them, but Ichigo could tell that he already loved them dearly.

"Uh… Could you come?" Renji asked, spoon hanging out of his mouth as he chewed. Ichigo nodded without question. He knew it would take a long time to get Renji to re-enter society, and didn't imagine that being off on his own was a good idea just yet. He didn't really know what kind of rumors were going around behind their backs, and didn't want to leave Renji vulnerable to some jerks who thought they knew what was what.

After finishing with eating, Renji fiddled around with the ring on his finger, and Ichigo privately grinned. It looked like he'd turned out like his dad after all – a complete sucker for true love. They'd been married, not officially of course, and not many people knew about it, besides Chad, who had made them a pair of metal rings, but it was official to them. They didn't need to go to a church to make it real between them.

Either way, Ichigo confirming his feelings like that had given Renji a huge confidence boost, because he'd stopped clinging quite so hard to Ichigo or panicking at his absence. He'd even taken to letting Ichigo put his hair up every day, even though he still felt the need to tie a cloth around his forehead to hide the scars. When Ichigo asked why he hadn't initially liked the hairstyle, he replied, 'Rukia liked it that way'. He smiled when he said her name instead of getting that haunted look in his eyes, and he'd tug on the ends of his hair to make his ponytail stand up more.

That was a big step towards healing, if you asked Ichigo.

They'd been spending most of their days replanting rows of trees all over the place to compensate for the loss the village had gone through, and to repair the forest that more and more people had been venturing out into. Renji hadn't been comfortable with that at first, because he felt that the forest was his home and his only, after so long having it to himself, but he'd accepted it and wished to make it a beautiful place again.

"Okay, lazy-bones', get out there!" Karin urged, booting them out the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Renji called, tugging on her hair and following behind Ichigo, who was cursing up a storm at her. The two girls gave them a wave, and as they left grinning, Renji darkly said in all seriousness, "They're never marrying. Neither of them."

"I couldn't agree more," Ichigo replied.

Orihime had been overjoyed about Ichigo's return and surprisingly receptive to Renji, although Ichigo suspected that was just because she didn't pick up on their relationship like Chad had. He didn't see the need to tell her, not wanting to shock her too badly. Even in a more liberated time such as this, true love between two men still wasn't accepted by many. Luckily, Chad was the type of man who would die before selling them out, and cared more for Ichigo's happiness than anything else, and Ichigo _was_ happy.

The town had celebrated upon his return, but had postponed the merrymaking until they could rally enough supplies to truly afford it. It had taken a few months, but it was almost time now.

Renji wasn't really one for farmwork, even though he loyally followed Ichigo around all day long. Being a blacksmith wasn't for him either, since he'd just gotten away from his fire cage, he wasn't ready to go back. If you'd believe it, he was interested in carpentry, and Ichigo thought it was a great idea. It was a way for Renji to make things without having to associate with too many people if he didn't want to.

Renji felt a little spurned that Ichigo hadn't been the one to break the curse. Ichigo hadn't been the one to rescue him, but that warrior had, Ichigo's killer. True, he'd turned his anger on that dragon once he'd robbed him of Ichigo's corpse on top of it all, but all the same, Renji wasn't ready to forgive the warrior for what he'd done.

Ichigo may have survived, but for all intents and purposes, Ikkaku had _meant_ to kill him.

Anyway, they had defeated the dragon and banished the witch's curse on the blade, which had caused Ikkaku to be away from it for so long that it had grown rageful and lonely, which had caused Renji's fire sickness. Once Ikkaku had returned and proved once again that he was worthy of combat, all that had gone away.

It had taken Renji a while to figure it out, because it didn't seem like the man had changed his methods after all, but it finally clicked when he realized that Ikkaku had killed Ichigo with that sword, but his ownership hadn't been accepted until he defeated the dragon _without_ it.

He'd had to slay it honorably, without relying on metal. He'd had to do it on his own, like Ichigo had been meaning to all along. It seemed like they'd both been equally worthy of the sword, fighting for it fist to fist for the most part, but then they had both betrayed their true intentions and gone for the kill. That was all the sword had needed to take control, and Ichigo had been killed.

At that moment, Renji had been sure that he would be like that forever, alone and burning, and the pain had been so much that he thought he was in a live volcano, the pressure building up to a colossal point and then breaking. Ichigo had failed and nothing else would matter. He'd been willing to live with the curse until the end of time as long as Ichigo was there for that short time, but with Ichigo dead, none of it was worth it. He'd been ready to burn the world.

He'd been wrong, though. Ikkaku had been the one to end things and freed him, and Renji had immediately reverted to his original form, with a few souvenirs left behind. Just a couple nasty burns that would never heal, and a hair-change.

When there proved to be no one around, Renji slipped a big finger through Ichigo's long ones, hooking onto him as he followed behind him so they could go snag their wagon from where they'd left it out in the field.

He didn't know what the rest of the town thought of him. He might be imagining things, but he thought some of them glared at him when they thought he wasn't looking. It was quite intimidating, but he was pleased to note that he was a big scary guy, and not many people got close if he put on a tough scowl.

Sometimes Ichigo would wonder aloud to him about the return of that legendary warrior to their part of the world, hearing that he was back in fights again, never losing a battle. Renji always shrugged, replying that no good would come of it.

"Hey," Ichigo called, getting his attention and talking lowly with him as they stopped off and helped Orihime carry a huge barrel of fruit into her humble home. As they left, after receiving a glass of milk in thanks, Ichigo went on, "I always thought breaking that sword would be the end of things." Renji remained silent, not wishing to return to the topic. Only a few months had passed, but Renji wished to leave it in the past. The pain was still too fresh. He stood slightly closer to Ichigo as they passed down the street.

"What do you think happened?"

"Mm," he grunted, head down as they passed by some other villagers on the cobblestone path. After they'd walked by, Renji went on in a low voice, "The owner came back for it and reclaimed it, so you didn't need to break it."

"I never shoulda' picked that thing up," Ichigo laughed, trying to brush it off. Renji appeared uncomfortably. "It saw that I wasn't good enough and it stuck me, Heh."

"No way," Renji rasped, blinking hard as his chest tightened up, the image of Ichigo lying there coming back to him, his hands grasped tightly around the hilt, the blade sticking out of his chest. "You were worthy. It just needed someone who wouldn't rely on it in battle. You were honorable."

"But I wasn't going to use it to its fullest. It must've known."

"Maybe," Renji conceded as Ichigo took his hands and pulled him on past a few more people, all of whom called out to them and reminded them about the celebration that night.

"Yeah, we'll be there!" Ichigo called back, waving. "We'll be there, won't we? You wanna' go?" he asked lowly to Renji, waiting for his nod before he shouted back to them and confirmed that they'd show up.

Feeling a heated glare, Ichigo leveled Ishida with a flat stare in return. Renji grabbed Ichigo's sleeve hard in concern, but Ichigo didn't stop walking, passing on by the nearly blind archer. He didn't know how Ishida could always tell when Renji was there, since he didn't have the blazing red hair anymore, but he supposed since Renji was always with him, he could just assume he was there every time he saw orange hair too.

The first time he and Renji had met, Uryu had said something disparaging about Ichigo's inability to bring back the mountain beast's head, and Renji had sharply told him not to speak badly of Ichigo or he'd hit him. It had made Ichigo blink for a minute, surprised that Renji had broken through his shyness and gotten so angry, but it had only lasted a few seconds until he backed away and stood behind Ichigo, glaring, but practically cowering. Ichigo still thought it was a step in the right direction.

He knew Ishida didn't trust hardly anyone, and he'd seemed to be warming up to Renji at least. Still, Ichigo made sure the two didn't have to converse directly or spend time alone together even for one minute. Chad and Orihime had accepted Renji right away. Renji didn't seem comfortable accepting her kindness yet, but he was particularly receptive to Chad, who knew the meaning of comfortable silence, and made Renji feel okay with initiating conversation, since Chad didn't usually say anything unless prompted either. Keigo freaked Renji out the first time they'd met with his pure charisma, but now he was kicking his ass just like Ichigo was all the time.

It was nice to have friends again. It wasn't the same, but it was nice. He missed his old life, of course, but he wouldn't trade it back for the one he was living now. Ichigo had given him a family, healed his hurts slowly, and he was beginning to come back to himself.

He owed this guy big.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah," Renji replied, smiling, tightening his grip on Ichigo's hand.

Later he hung out in a tree in their yard to escape the heat and to avoid having to interact with anyone who might walk by, taking a break from carting baby trees around while Ichigo took care of some business about a horse-shoe with Chad.

He looked out at the sky, thinking back to Rukia and her deep dark eyes. Would she have been happy for him? Renji had been in love with her brother, after all, but… but that hadn't mattered after what had happened regarding Rukia's death.

He had been betrayed by the one he'd loved before, lost others, and he'd hoped that nothing would ever hurt that badly again, but Ichigo's death, that had burned like nothing else.

Sometimes he'd still think back to them, Byakuya's pale skin and dark hair, and Renji would feel a twinge of pain at how things had turned out, but he was glad that nothing had ever went on. He would've felt foolish, because that love was nothing compared to this one.

He smiled a little.

It was a shame that he'd lose this too one day. All things passed, and Renji would still remain here until the sun blew up. Such was life, but he'd accepted that. The least he could do was enjoy Ichigo's youth while it lasted. One day he'd kiss his creased and wrinkled face as he lay on his death bed and watch him drift off into the next life, and still Renji would remain young and untouched as the day he'd walked up the mountainside for the first time.

It would hurt, but Renji realized that… he didn't _want_ Ichigo to remain here forever with him. He wanted Ichigo to live and grow older, even if it meant leaving him behind.

Maybe Ichigo really had changed his heart somehow, because even in the prospect of the bittersweet pain, that selfishness was gone. Renji wanted the best for Ichigo even at his own expense. He loved him. He truly loved him.

"Hey, you comin'?" Ichigo called from the foot of the tree, holding a hand out to him. Renji looked up, seeing that the sun was setting.

As they held hands in front of the community bonfire and stared into the blaze, Renji's heart twisted. He'd never known love could fill him up this much. He squeezed Ichigo's hand tightly, feeling him flinch. They both looked down, and Renji examined his own fingers, heart stopping for a moment and then swelling when he realized…

His nails had gathered dirt, were chipped, and long. It was obvious that it would happen considering the work he'd been doing. No, the important thing was that they had _grown._

Ichigo seemed to have come to the same conclusion, eyes wide as their shocked faces met for a moment. Then with a wild laugh, Ichigo leapt into his arms in front of everybody and they spun each other around, hugging fiercely.

No, they wouldn't part, even now that they could get old and die together. Not even death can stop true love.

* * *

Yumichika had mostly ignored the stories, the growing rumors about the legendary swordsman who had returned after five hundred years of sleeping. Many people thought it was fake, but there was no denying the young man's skill and the connection between him reappearing and the curse of the mountain breaking.

Yumichika didn't stick around to listen whenever people talked about it, but it wasn't easy to avoid, so of course he heard a few tales. He'd spent nearly three months returning to his home town to retrieve his sword, which he'd buried for personal reasons. Sure enough, it was still there, and by the time he returned home to Rangiku a month later, he'd earned a good bop on the head for worrying her.

Later on, he'd caught wind of a mysterious part of the story that he hadn't remembered ever hearing before. Something that concerned him of course, because it had to do with the person who'd supposedly awoken the warrior. Something about twin souls. Yumichika hadn't stayed, unable to bear it. He'd settled into his uncaring state, and refused to break out of it. His heart couldn't take the pain of rejection for even one more moment.

Not long after, there came word of a huge fight with a local thug who'd taken on a near-legendary status in himself. Zaraki. It wasn't clear who had won, but to Yumichika's unease, the stories stopped coming altogether after that, as if the warrior had clean dropped off the face of the earth. He had to wonder if he'd been defeated finally, but it wasn't as if he was worried. Ikkaku had aimed to be the best, and he would be one way or another. And if he was dead, well, it didn't affect Yumichika anyway.

Hacking a large slice out of a tree trunk, pushing himself hard until his arm muscles ached, Yumichika's ear suddenly picked up on something, but he didn't turn around. Someone was in the woods with him, and he wasn't eager to have company. Without turning around to investigate, he walked off, not stopping for at least ten minutes and then sitting up in a tree, lounging in the branches and carving the bark off with the flat of his blade.

"Oi!" he heard in the distance, but he didn't look up. Some fool calling for his child, he told himself, although he'd recognize the voice anywhere.

There was no denying who it was, but it was obvious that Ikkaku hadn't become the best in the world yet, so Yumichika had no idea what he was doing here. Yumichika didn't want to see his face. He didn't think he could look at it yet without wanting to cut it in half, not that he'd be able to, most likely.

"Hey, where are you?!" Yumichika still said nothing, gritting his teeth. He didn't want to see him.

"Come back!" the voice shouted, much closer that time. Yumichika took the opportunity to silently slip out of the tree and begin treading in the other direction as quietly as he could. "Hey, there you are!" He froze, cursing under his breath and walking on, each step making him feel more and more uncomfortable as he heard someone running up to him. Yumichika didn't want to see him, or talk to him either.

"Don't come near me," he croaked bitterly, too quietly for anyone to hear of course, but he said it all the same. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he whipped around, slashing hard, just barely missing. To his surprise, he hadn't been blocked with the blade of legend, and there Ikkaku stood, scuffed with dirt, weaponless.

No way… Had he been defeated? How on earth was he still alive? The sword wouldn't take a new master if it's owner hadn't been killed, so where was it?

"You…" Yumichika said breathlessly, "You don't…" He couldn't think of what to say, hand gripping the sword handle tightly as Ikkaku wiped his brow and caught his breath from chasing after him. "What do you want?" he asked coldly, with a tone of finality.

Ikkaku looked almost embarrassed, but serious, and altogether relieved to see him. Now that Yumichika could finally bring himself to look at Ikkaku's face, his stomach twisted when he saw the dark circles under his eyes and the yellow pallor to his face. Was he sick? Had he lost his sword and was going mad without it?

"Ever since you left," Ikkaku panted, brows pushing together in distress. "Ever… Hhooo," he exhaled, bending over and putting his hands on his knees, having been running around the woods aimlessly for a long time. "They said you'd be out here, so I came right away."

"What were you saying?" Yumichika prompted, wanting to keep this confrontation short.

"I can't sleep, since you've been gone," Ikkaku said flatly, looking up with caution to meet Yumichika's dead eyes.

For one, it really irked Yumichika that Ikkaku said that like _he'd_ been the one to cut things off between them. For two, there had never really been anything between them to cut off, which hurt even worse. For three, Ikkaku's insomnia was none of his concern. Yumichika turned away without saying anything, his heart throbbing dully with new pain.

"Oh, yes?" he said with a sneer, "and what would I do about that?"

Ikkaku pursed his lips and looked at his feet, not seeming embarrassed, but feeling awkward all the same. "Well, I slept really good when we camped in the field."

"You mean the night you ran off on me?" Yumichika said straightforwardly, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that…" Ikkaku said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. Yumichika sniffed and rolled his eyes, letting Ikkaku squirm for a few minutes before bringing up the inevitable lingering question.

"Where is it, then?"

"Where's what?" Ikkaku asked cluelessly as Yumichika circled around him, picking at his clothes. "Hey!"

"Your sword? Where has it gone?" Yumichika asked, even in his cold state able to pick up on the fact that Ikkaku was almost like he'd been that night when they'd seemed to have been bonding, before that sword had come between them. What had happened to it? Yumichika couldn't bear to get his hope up if it was just going to show up again sometime.

"Oh that," Ikkaku said, as if he meant, 'oh, _that_ thing that my life didn't completely revolve around and that I didn't pick over you'. "It's gone." Ikkaku said it so indifferently and with such a mild shrug that Yumichika could hardly believe this was the same man who had heartlessly slayed a boy to keep his ownership of the sword uncontested.

"Gone," Yumichika echoed. "Gone where?"

"I cast it into fiery molten lava."

"What a tragedy," Yumichika said soberly, turning away, walking off. Ikkaku came after him, snagging him by the back of the collar.

"I did it on _purpose,_ to destroy it!" he said, seeming proud and waiting for recognition. Yumichika turned to him with a subdued glance, hardly believing what he was hearing, but knowing better than to get too excited.

"How will you become the best?" he asked, already regretting the loss of Ikkaku's fondest dream. He hadn't meant… he hadn't meant for Ikkaku to ever give up his dream. That was never what he'd wanted. He just hadn't wanted to be second place, which wasn't exactly fair either, because when they'd met and parted, it had taken a day, and Ikkaku had kept his dream for half a thousand years. Yumichika had always been selfish like that, though, and he'd wanted even if he hadn't deserved.

Ikkaku scuffed the ground then, looking at his feet. "I thought I'd take a chance on a different kind of battle…" He looked up into Yumichika's eyes again then, "if you'd still have me."

Yumichika was eerily silent, mouth flat and drawn, eyes not wide, but pupils shrunk. Where had the real Ikkaku gone? Was this impostor going to carry him over a threshold and get down on one knee next?

Ikkaku fidgeted in what seemed like an irritated and anxious silence.

"Ne, do you accept?" Ikkaku finally asked, nudging his shoulder. Yumichika took an exasperated breath, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts and massage his temples in irritation, before he began in a deadly quiet voice that let Ikkaku know if he answered wrong _once_ , he'd soon be missing something very vital.

"Ikkaku, do you know why you woke up?"

Ikkaku was quiet for a moment, looking confused at the change in subject, almost dopily so. He seemed afraid to say the wrong thing, so he just acknowledged his question, "… Nh?"

"I kissed you while you slept, and your eyes opened," he said tensely, voice sharp and cold. Ikkaku was dead silent.

Yumichika let out a rough gasp, whipping around on him and glaring hard, "I kissed you, and you woke up! Some may call it coincidence, but I _think not_." He turned away then, walking in a circle, hands flapping in front of his face as he ranted to himself privately, "Imagine that, happening to _me_. A true love kiss! _"_

Ikkaku's face was slightly red, brows furrowed as he touched his mouth once in thought, looking back to Yumichika.

"A true love kiss. Hah," Yumichika laughed humorlessly, eyes boring into Ikkaku's thick shiny skull as his voice went cold and dead, expression a bitter snarl. "As if you could ever love anyone." That had obviously stung, because Ikkaku leapt into action, glaring back heatedly in offense.

"That's why I came! I melted that sword for _you_ and sought you out so that we can be partners!" They were pretty words, but not what Yumichika wanted to hear. He wanted to hear the truth for once, and this wasn't it, it couldn't be. It was too late, far too late for this conversation. "That whole time I've been gone and fighting my way to the top, all I could think of was you and your kind words-"

"Kind? I cursed your name the day we parted!"

"You _were_ being kind!" Ikkaku insisted desperately. "What you said was out of care for _me!_ Maybe it wasn't what I wanted to hear, but it was for the best, for _my_ best! You knew that I would refuse, but still you said it, sacrificing your own pride. Shouldn't I at least do the same in return? I owe a debt! You woke me, doesn't that mean _something?_ Don't you _care_? _"_

Yumichika froze, since this was the moment where Ikkaku had slapped him in his own little speech months prior. He closed his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose to gather inner strength, then smiled bitterly.

He knew that if Ikkaku was telling the truth, he would've had to have some sort of colossal motivation to make him get rid of the sword he'd held dear for centuries. A force like true love would make sense, but not such as between the two of them.

"But it's not love, ne?"

When he opened his eyes to stuttering, he saw Ikkaku looking put off, shaking his head many times, along with his wildly waving hands as if saying 'no, no, _absolutely_ no'. Yumichika's mouth pulled tight. He'd thought as much.

"Woah, don't get misunderstand!" Yumichika nodded sharply in satisfaction, having known all along that it wasn't what he'd hoped for. This true love shit was just an endless let-down. Why did it look so easy for other people? He must have done something wrong. Something must be wrong with him. Yumichika's heart just jerked and _ached_ at the thought.

"I don't believe in true love just _finding_ people all of a sudden like that," Ikkaku said, seeming cowed, sweating slightly as he met Yumichika's gaze. He hadn't denied the existence of true love, but he had when it concerned _them._

"It's two people making the effort and feeling it all on their own," Ikkaku said, slightly breathless then, and Yumichika's heart ceased beating for a moment as he hoped against hope that he was hearing what he thought he was. It sounded just like Yumichika's own ideals before any of this had happened… So… Ikkaku had destroyed that sword… to make the effort to come back to him and apologize? So they could be lovers?

"You and me," Ikkaku said, shaking his head and furrowing his brows, "we're not like that. It wouldn't work between us."

"Why not?!" Yumichika wailed, stomping his foot, finally losing it, his heart bleeding anew. Why had Ikkaku come here just to twist the blade he'd shoved into his chest? Why couldn't he just get out of his life and his head and his heart already?! "What's wrong with me?!"

"Nothing's _wrong_ with you," Ikkaku said, holding his hands up in appeasement, brows crinkling, "I just don't feel something like that for you." After a moment of giving him an honest look and shrugging his shoulders as if this were an obvious fact he was just voicing, he said, "I mean, _look_ at you."

Yumichika growled then, something snapping deep within him. Fully intent on killing him, he drew his sword, running it against his palm for a moment and then striking. Ikkaku dodged, seeming shocked, but Yumichika kept going, slashing and advancing again and again, going for the kill. He hated Ikkaku. He wished he was dead and that they'd never met. He wished that he didn't feel like this, that none of this hurt, that the sight of Ikkaku's face didn't make him feel like bursting into tears. "AHH!"

He was panting them, missing Ikkaku's neck when he ducked, taking a huge wedge out of a tree as he side-stepped and struck again. Ikkaku's shock had melted away, and he was laughing wildly now, whirling under him and finally blocking right at the hilt, having grabbed Yumichika's hand at the base of the sword to keep him from cutting him again. "This I like," he said excitedly. "We can be partners, travel together, like we were doing…"

Yumichika snarled, kicking him back, glaring bitterly. He didn't want it, not like this. Ikkaku's charisma just put a hole in his heart, because it wasn't what he wanted.

"I don't care if it was a true love for you," Ikkaku said breathlessly with a grin, not seeming to understand that those were extremely cruel words in Yumichika's eyes, "You and I can still be companions."

Yumichika immediately said, "I don't accept," turning away, sheathing his sword for the last time.

"Nah?" he heard Ikkaku shout in confusion and near panic. "Hey, you bastard, don't make me drag you with me!" he snapped in his direction, stomping after him. He was like a big child who wouldn't accept the fact that someone didn't like him and was stupidly going to try to _make_ them like him, but that kind of thing just didn't work.

Ikkaku got aggressive then, advancing on him and reaching out to grab him. "I came all the way here, and you're just gonna'-" Yumichika slapped his arm away with incredible force. He _meant_ it when he said 'no'.

"Leave, Ikkaku!" Yumichika shouted, and he heard the crunching of the leaves behind him stop abruptly, but he didn't stop walking away.

Ikkaku just stared after him. He wanted Yumichika. He wanted that one person who called his name without death being involved. He wanted someone to stand behind him in a fight and call his name. He wanted to be able to come home with blood on his hands and still see a smiling face and hear a mouth that could call him by his name.

"Why do you not want me now? You were following me before," Ikkaku said lowly in wounded confusion. Yumichika stopped and turned slowly, deathly sarcastic.

"Oh, let me see," Yumichika mused, as Ikkaku caught up to him, "You don't believe in true love, even after what you witnessed on that mountain…"

"Ah, geez, not back to that kid again," Ikkaku groaned, head hanging back, but Yumichika just hit him in the chest, making him look at him and listen seriously.

" _Yes_ , that kid. That fire-demon-thing, whatever it was, its love was so strong, its grief was so powerful that he brought his lover back from the dead! That's what everyone heard about, and I know you know it's true. They had true love, and they didn't perish in all that fire!"

Ikkaku shook his head, psshing, "That was part of his magic, not true love-"

Yumichika gave a long sarcastic moan, "Ugh, _still_ , you make excuses. You think true love isn't real, even in this place, where it happens all the time. Do you _have eyes?_ Is your brain just a wet matchstick? _"_

"Okay, look, that's too far," Ikkaku growled, but still tolerating it.

"I reiterate, you're an idiot. You think true love isn't real," Yumichika repeated, crossing his arms and tapping his foot.

Seeming to go through a great struggle, Ikkaku got out, "Well, not with _us."_

"…"

Seeing that that wasn't the answer Yumichika had wanted, Ikkaku went on, "We're men, alright? I mean, you're pretty, but…" Ikkaku's speech slowed down for a minute and his eyes lingered, but then he shook himself out of it, as if his brain had touched a hot stove. "We're men. Both of us, _men_ ," he gestured between them as if that would make things more clear, as if Yumichika was just confused.

"Aye," Yumichika agreed with his observation. Ikkaku pursed his lips, eyes sliding back and forth, going on with continuing what he thought was obvious.

"… That's against the course of nature, isn't it? Or have they found a way to-"

" _Hah!_ That's rich," Yumichika laughed shrilly, "Madarame _Ikkaku_ saying something like that?… Where is the legendary warrior who cared not for the curse or the punishment he'd been set with?! Was that not against nature for you to sleep unaging in the forest for a half-thousand years?!" Ikkaku went quiet, lip protruding as Yumichika jabbed him in the nose. "You _ignore_ something like fate, but have respect for the 'law of nature?' I'm assuming you're just trying to further your argument."

"I-"

"Those are some pathetic morals of yours!" Yumichika snapped, stalking away. "To think that a witch actually thought you were worthy of anyone to love you in the history of the world. She should've just killed you right there instead of putting you to sleep!"

Ikkaku's soft confused words halted him dead in his tracks. "… But _you_ loved me, didn't you?" Yumichika was dead silent, not turning around. Ikkaku couldn't see his face from there, and he didn't know if he wanted to, not knowing what he would see. "That whole time… you had true love because you kissed me awake."

He walked up behind him when he saw Yumichika's shoulders shaking. He put a hand on his back, patting awkwardly. Yumichika's voice was choked and wrenched with anger then, "I just don't understand… why you don't feel it too."

"Hey, I wasn't awake for that," Ikkaku defended, then realizing what he'd just said, repeating it slowly, "I wasn't… awake…" He frowned, brow furrowing as he hummed, having just realized that what he'd said was true.

"We should try again," he suddenly decided.

"Don't be ridiculous," Yumichika said, obviously having no intention of opening himself up for pain again. The damage was done. Maybe Ikkaku had gotten rid of that sword for him, but it was already over. Ikkaku had already betrayed him and hurt him. They couldn't go back. There was only one first time, and that was gone. "Only the first kiss has that kind of significance, wouldn't you say? It wouldn't work anyways."

"Maybe…" Ikkaku shuffled slightly, fidgeting his thumbs together, Yumichika turning towards him with a morose incredibly sad look in his eyes. "Or we could just fall in love on our own," he said lowly, taking Yumichika's hand in his rough one.

Yumichika looked up to him, and Ikkaku could see that it was far too late for this, that he'd damaged Yumichika beyond repair, robbing him of every bit of happiness that he'd been promised with that first kiss – not that he'd had a say, anyways. He'd been _asleep_. Still, Ikkaku felt responsible, and if there was even a fragment of hope, he wanted to heal this.

"Thank you," he said for the first time in ages, acknowledging just what Yumichika had done for him, "… for waking me to sanity."

Yumichika's eyes were deep purple. Ikkaku had never noticed it before, but now he was magnetized, something rising up through his chest and throat, seizing him and setting him alight. He felt like he was floating. He felt like… something was tied to a point within his chest, tugging him gently forward, forever guiding him around.

He owed Yumichika big time. For waking him up out of that five hundred year sleep, for giving him a chance to go on living, for showing him the error of his ways and that there were other things in life besides that sword. For all of that, Ikkaku would forever be in his debt. Yumichika had woken him from madness.

"Yumichika…" He rose a hand to Yumichika's cheek, caressing lightly with his knuckles, drawing their bodies together. Leaning in to peck his lips, his heart crashed through the ground fifty feet when Yumichika shrugged him off effortlessly and turned his face away, rejecting him, eyes cold and lifeless as he turned to walk away.

Yumichika didn't believe that he'd changed Ikkaku at all, not once. Never.

He privately wiped his eyes with his forearm, trudging through dead leaves as only silence called out behind him. This would be the last time, he was sure. The last time…

He almost faltered and stopped when he heard a light crunching behind him, footsteps behind him, and with a small side-ward glance, he could see Ikkaku casually strolling after him, hands in his pockets, eyes wandering around as he hummed.

After ten or so minutes, it became crystal clear that Ikkaku was following him, and wasn't stopping.

Yumichika gave a private grin, holding out some fingers behind him, immediately rewarded with the warm slide of a callused hand in his.

No, he'd never changed Ikkaku. Maybe Ikkaku had changed all on his own.

* * *

 _O mistress mine, where are you roaming?_  
 _O stay and hear! Your true love's coming_  
 _That can sing both high and low;_  
 _Trip no further, pretty sweeting,_  
 _Journeys end in lovers meeting,_  
 _Every wise man's son doth know._

 _What is love? 'Tis not hereafter;_  
 _Present mirth hath present laughter;_  
 _What's to come is still unsure..._  
 _In delay there lies no plenty;_  
 _Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty,_  
 _Youth's a stuff will not endure._

* * *

 _ **CN- Song credits/character analysis.**_

I really loved writing this one. With this true love theme, I tried to make things not work out all peachy for Yumichika and Ikkaku. Given how difficult their romance would be in canon with all the lies and blood oaths to not help each other going on, I didn't think you guys would appreciate it if I let things happen all easy and no trouble whatsoever. Ikkaku is a dude focused on his own battles, and Yumichika is following behind him, like always. It's a hard fact of the bleach canon that I've yet to get over. At least with the new developments in canon and their most recent battle, it seems like things are beginning to change…

1 (Closing) - Crusade by Voltaire - I thought this was rather fitting, since the whole thing is about 'knowing' your enemy, and Ichigo gets to know that Renji isn't really as bad as he seems, even though he has volatile flame powers like the dragons in the song. Nice song about religious acceptance.

2 (Intro) - Forever Young by Alphaville

2 (Closing) - Castle Down by Emilie Autumn - A very fantasy themed song, that fits with Yumichika in this story. He's desolate and craving Ikkaku's attention, following him around even though he was sure to 'tear his castle down.'

3 (Intro) - Almost Human by Voltaire - Another Voltaire song. This one is sung by Lucifer, who is scorning the human race for calling themselves so different than him, and also bitterly insulting angels/God, wondering why he was cast out of heaven for such a 'small' offense. The end is pretty sad, because he wants to be touched so badly, but also can't stand it. He keeps repeating that he's almost a human being and that he's so like us, for x amount of reasons, sort of like Renji, who isn't so far from being human, but just enough that he has to constantly reassure himself and try to prove that he has some humanity left.

3 (Closing) - Try by P!nk - I thought it fit in, 'Where there is desire, there is gonna' be a flame, where there is a flame, someone's bound to get burnt,' and we know how the rest of the chorus goes. 'Just because it burns doesn't mean you're gonna' die, you've gotta' get up and try, and try, and try.' I left that part of the chorus out of the chapter, because the song is so famous that people know how it goes. I figured you guys would make the connection there. Renji is afraid of what will happen between them, because the passion is there, but the danger too. He has yet to realize that, even if it builds between then, it won't kill either of them if he doesn't let it, and it's worth trying for.

4 (Intro) - Enchanted by Taylor Swift - I'm not exactly her biggest fan, but I couldn't include My Chemical Romance's 'Disenchanted', because there were no pertinent lyrics, even though the title is obviously the same. 'Enchanted' is the next best thing. There is a predominant theme in here of people holding back what they wanted to say until it was too late, especially Yumichika.

4 (Closing) - Spell by Marie Digby

5 (Intro) - Comatose by Skillet

5 (Closing) - Sleep by My Chemical Romance - basically Ikkaku being like, 'how can anyone care about me, because I'm not sorry for what I'm doing. How could anyone still care or feel sorry for me, anyways?' And of course, he was a sleepyhead for five centuries, so yep, just sleep.

6 (Intro) - Cinderella, Disney Version - We all know that famous line from the fairy godmother.

6 (Closing) - Posthumous Letter by William Control - Basically, Renji losing control and imagining the world after everything's dead.

7 (Intro) - Love the Way You Lie by Eminem - This one sort of fits. Just the chorus, not the verses. Because the verses are about woman beating.

7 (Closing) - By the Sword by Emilie Autumn - Basically when Yumichika makes up his mind to do something for himself for once. The song is about a lone swordswoman whose entire order was killed some way or another, and she's wandering the world alone, but the song is quite upbeat, because she knows one way or another, she'll find her brothers through her sword. It's an empowering thing to hear a moderately happy song while someone is saying 'my soul will grieve'. It makes you feel like just because you're sad, that doesn't have to be the end. It's one of those, 'you can move on someday' songs.

8 (Intro) - Ashes and Wine by A Fine Frenzy - An 'ashes' theme is a great way to end off this story, since Ichigo was reborn out of the ashes.

8 (Closing) - O Mistress Mine by Emilie Autumn - I really recommend listening to this one. The poem is actually from the Twelfth Night, by William Shakespeare, and has been transformed into the most beautiful song that encompasses the whole of this story.


End file.
